


Just a Little Death

by phoenixyfriend



Series: Little Death [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (So much fire), Adoption, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alcohol, Alien Biology, Bets & Wagers, Catholicism, Dancing, Demons, Exposition, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fire, Friends With Benefits, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Half-Human, Heathers References, Hiding Medical Issues, Incubus Lance, Interspecies Racism, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Memes, Modern Fantasy, Multi, No Smut, One Night Stands, Original Character(s), Pole Dancing, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Shakespeare Quotations, Sick Character, Succubi & Incubi Biology, Supernatural Elements, Threesome - F/M/M, Trans Characters, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Trans Hunk (Voltron), Vampire Lance, Violinist Lance (Voltron), off-screen sex, written before season 3 aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 217,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixyfriend/pseuds/phoenixyfriend
Summary: AKA: The Incubus AU Where There Isn't Actually Any SmutIn which Lance is half incubus, hiding it, and possibly spending most of his time low-key panicking that someone's going to find out.At least Hunk is a good bro that's helping him keep his secret.





	1. I Can Handle This

**Author's Note:**

> You may have seen my tumblr posts about writing pornless fics around tropes that are commonly used as an excuse for porn.
> 
> ...This is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic was written between Seasons 2 and 3, with the final chapter/epilogue being posted less than two hours before Season 3 aired. As such, a number of things from the third season (and on) either aren't present or are, but twisted. My characterization for Lotor isn't aligned with canon in this fic (as I only had the trailers to go off of), and some of my backstory for Haggar isn't accurate... though I apparently got very, very close in some respects. I guess my meta paid off?
> 
> Someone asked about character ages, so... yeah. Here we are. I'm using canon as the basis for the paladins, so:  
> Pidge: 14  
> Lance, Hunk, Keith: 17 (canon puts them at 16/17; Hunk and Lance are 17 at the beginning of the fic. Keith is 16 but turns 17 by the end of Season 1)  
> Shiro: 25
> 
> Allura: I'm interpreting her as the Altean equivalent of 19 for the purposes of this fic  
> Coran: Altean equivalent of late fifties

Lance hugged an arm around his torso, looking up and down the hallway before knocking on Hunk’s door. It was too late for anyone to really be up anymore, but he was reaching the end of his rope here. His skin felt like it was about to crawl off, like he was going to just sneeze and lose any façade of normalcy that he’d managed to build up.

The door slid open with a hiss, and Hunk stood there, rubbing at one eye.

“Lance? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the… well, not the night, but the sleep cycle or whatever?”

Lance licked his lips nervously. “Um. I’m…there hasn’t been any meat on the table.”

“Yeah, I know. I hate it t… _oh_.” Hunk’s eyes widened, sleep-haze fleeing as he realized what the problem was. “Oh, hey, are you okay?”

“Not really?” Lance shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I’m not exactly in danger of dying, not for a while, but I’m going to start, uh, losing control of the details soon.”

“Yeah, uh, come on in,” Hunk stepped to the side and gestured towards the inside of his room. “You can’t take too much, you know. They’ll notice if I’m woozy.”

“I can just snack a bit, but it’s going to need to be a regular thing,” Lance took a seat on the bed and waited for Hunk to join him. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I get it. I mean, I don’t _get_ it get it, but I know why it is the way it is.” Hunk held out a hand as he took his seat, wrist facing upwards. “This work?”

“They might be less suspicious if they think the bruises are hickeys, but… I think I can maybe expend enough energy to heal them up.” Lance frowned. “Maybe I should go for someplace that’s more likely to be covered up by fabric all the time.”

Hunk pulled his pajama sleeve further up and offered the crook of his elbow. “Bon appétit.”

“Haha,” Lance said drily, but dropped his head to thin skin that covered the veins, eyeteeth growing back out to their second size, long, slim fangs that pierced easily through to the blood underneath.

“Ow,” Hunk said, voice mild.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance pulled back and out, and licked at the wound until the numbing agent in his saliva started to work, something in him relaxing as he caught on the drops of blood that welled up. “Better?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Great. Awesome. Let’s just… do this.” Lance sealed his mouth back down over the pinprick wounds, sucking up the blood as fast as he could without hurting his friend. He didn’t want to intrude on Hunk’s sleep cycle any more than he had to.

One large hand came up and started running through Lance’s hair, as short as it was. Hunk started humming as Lance fed, sating his hunger and regaining some measure of control over his form. It didn’t last too long, just a handful of minutes, but it was enough.

“Okay,” Lance said, just a little breathless after so long drinking. “I don’t think I should take any more. Don’t want you being anemic tomorrow.”

“Still bleeding, Lance.” Hunk wiggled his arm, eyebrows raised.

“Right! Right. Sorry, let me just…” He leaned over and sealed his mouth over the wound again, licking up the last few drops of blood that had welled up after he detached himself, and focusing just enough to heal the wounds. “There. Skin’s fixed. Bruising… might take too much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Hunk sighed, pulling Lance’s head to his chest and hugging him. “You feeling better now?”

“Yeah, loads.”

“How long until you need to drink again?”

“Um…” Lance frowned. “In that amount, and without any kind of meat to help tide me over… maybe three days, tops? Four, if you can get a decent amount of iron supplements into my food goo?”

“Let’s aim for every other day, then,” Hunk sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even _realize_ this might be a problem. It completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay; you’re definitely helping me out like this. I’ll survive.”

“Surviving and thriving aren’t the same thing, Lance.”

Lance pulled away from the hug and gave Hunk his least impressed look. “Buddy, you know as well as I do that I’m not going to ‘thrive’ unless there’s some sexual activity going on, and I’m not going to pressure you into _that_.”

Hunk winced. “Yeah, okay, that’s… that’s fair. There’s probably someone on board that wouldn’t mind sleeping with you every once in a while?”

“Pidge, Shiro, and Coran are all out of my age range,” Lance ticked off on his fingers. “You’re not interested, and Keith and the Princess don’t like me enough to agree unless I tell them _why_ , and not only would that be a form of coercion, but I don’t actually _want_ people to know I’m half-incubus, Hunk.”

“Lance, I know, I just—”

“And sleeping with someone I have a long-term relationship of _any_ kind with, whether friends with benefits or romance or what, is really creepy if they aren’t aware that I’m using sex as a way to eat. Like, one-night stands are one thing, but you gotta see the ethical dilemma in sleeping with someone on board in the long-term without them knowing that I’m feeding off of the sex.”

“Okay, okay, so we’ll stick to the blood,” Hunk held up his hands and ducked his head, conceding the argument. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, though? What’ll you do if I get hurt or something, though?”

“Panic?”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Lance, that’s not a plan.”

“I barely have a plan _with_ you here, Hunk. I don’t know, I guess I’ll wing it? In the worst-case scenario, I guess I’ll just come clean and tell them, and then I’ll either figure out a compromise or just walk around switching between human and demon forms without any actual control.”

“Or find a one-night stand with an alien?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of curious to see if it tastes different, not gonna lie. Blood-wise, too. The Alteans smell fabulous and I’m kind of annoyed that I won’t be tasting that.” Lance pouted. “They’re mouthwateringly sweet, Hunk.”

“You vant to suck their blood,” Hunk said, terrible accent included, then laughed as Lance punched him lightly in the side. “Quit it!”

Lance grinned and stood up, stretching. “Well, I should head for bed. See you in the morning, Hunk!”

He strolled out the door and dropped his arms. He could do this. He could _totally_ do this. He could keep his secret, and in the event that he didn’t… well, hopefully nobody was going to freak out. Or end up religious enough to try to kill him.

(Ironically, Lance was pretty sure he was the most religious of the humans on board, and _that_ was definitely saying something, considering his complicated relationship with his own Catholicism.)

o.o.o.o.o

“Hey, beautiful,” Lance said, sitting on Blue’s head and running a hand over the metal armor. “You holding up okay?”

A sensation of laughter met him. She was fine. He smiled.

“Yeah, I know. Still gotta worry, though.” He lay down on his back and closed his eyes. “Mind if I just talk in my mind instead of out loud?”

Assent.

_Do you know?_ He asked. _About…_

More laughter. A wordless ‘of course,’ like there had never been any question of it.

_And you don’t… mind?_

Something like the lion equivalent of shrugged shoulders. A ghost of a smile. Fondness.

_But I’m not… I mean, I know your previous paladins weren’t human, but I’m legit cannibalistic, on the fluids front. Half-human and drinking human blood. Not to mention the whole feeding on sex thing._

Inquisitiveness. A sensation of force, almost predatory. More curiosity, but with a hint of judgement.

_Have I ever… no! No, of course not! That’s… I know that some incubi do, but I… my family… consent is important, okay, none of us would_ ever _. Not through trance or force or coercion or anything!_

Another shrugging sensation. A ‘then I don’t see the problem.’

_Really?_

Something like an eye-roll.

_Sorry, sorry, I’m just… I’m not used to people_ not _judging, even other magicals._

Fondness, again, almost maternal, but not quite. Everything was going to be fine, if the Blue Lion had any say.

Well, there was one person who wouldn’t be slut-shaming him for his species. _Yaaaaaaay._

o.o.o.o.o

“Alright, four slices of whatever kind of animal this is, cooked to perfection,” Hunk said, sliding the plates down in front of himself and most of the other paladins, “Two bowls of food goo for our herbivorous Alteans, and a travesty of still bloody, almost-raw meat for Lance, because he has terrible taste in everything.”

“Fuck you too, buddy,” Lance said with a grin, grabbing his plate as it slid down the table.

“That’s disgusting…” Keith said, staring at Lance’s plate with ill-disguised horror in his eyes.

The Alteans seemed similarly grossed-out.

“Everyone has their tastes. Mine just tend towards ‘in danger of salmonella.’ It’s not like I’m trying to make _you_ eat your food like this,” Lance poked at the air in Keith’s direction with his fork, one eyebrow raised. Keith, meanwhile, jerked back to avoid the blood that flew off of the fork.

“Get away!”

“That’s enough,” Shiro said, a warning in his tone. “If Lance wants to eat like that… well, we have the healing pods if anything goes wrong.”

“Aw, Shiro’s worried about me!” Lance put a hand to his chest and batted his lashes. “It just… it means so much to me, and I—”

“Dude, just eat,” Hunk elbowed him in the side. “Or I’ll cook it normally next time.”

Lance stuck his tongue out at his friend. “You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Watch me.”

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it; Hunk wasn’t going to waste food by making it _less_ enjoyable or healthy for Lance.

“ _Eat_ ,” Hunk said, pointing at Lance’s plate. “Even if it makes me die a little inside to pretend this is properly prepared, you still need to eat.”

Lance stuck out his tongue at his friend, but… well. Food. _Meat_.

Blood.

o.o.o.o.o

Ow.

Oooooow.

Lance’s entire body felt like a bruise. Or a burn. Actually, a burn was pretty accurate. He remembered an explosion, and with his body over in human form, he wasn’t exactly well-equipped to survive that sort of thing without injuries.

He thought he could hear fighting. Hm. That was worrying. He opened his eyes (ow) and levered himself up ( _ow_ ), and raised his bayard as he saw what was going on ( _double ow_ ).

_Boom, bitch_. His vision was swimming too much to be sure that he’d hit the exact target, but he was pretty sure he’d hit something. That was good.

Oh look, it was Keith. Hi, Keith!

“We did it. We are a great team.”

Haha. Nice. He was going back to sle—

o.o.o.o.o

Lance poked at his food goo after getting out of the med bay pod, stomach rolling unhappily. He could barely work up the energy to snark back at Keith, but that voice crack definitely made his mood lift a little.

He didn’t actually remember anything that happened, so for all he knew, Keith _had_ cradled him in his arms. That said…

Ugh. Food goo. He let the conversation pass around him, minimally contributed to the Sendak discussion, teased Hunk about whatever happened at the Balmera, and feigned surprise when Pidge admitted to being a girl (which, okay, he’d _smelled_ her discomfort with being misgendered by everyone back at the Garrison; he just figured she was still in the closet about being trans, not that she’d already come out of the closet and then gone _back in_ so she could infiltrate the Garrison, which, hey, _props,_ since that must have been _awful_ ).

“I added some iron supplements,” Hunk said quietly, taking a seat next to Lance as most of the team filed out of the room. “You can stop by my room later if you need to—”

“ _Yes,_ ” Lance hissed out, letting his head fall into his hands and threading his fingers through his hair. “Thank you, yes, I need to… the healing pods kept me mostly in stasis, but I’m going to be drained on that front soon.”

Hunk’s hand landed on Lance’s forehead, and Lance looked up to see his best friend frowning. “Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t want your immune system glitching out with your control again.”

“Nah, the pod kept me healthy. I’m just… skin. Feels like it’s about to crawl off. I don’t like feeling like this, it’s gross.”

“Okay, then.” Hunk patted his head. “Stop by when you’re done here, if nobody comes looking for us. We can take a coincidental bathroom break together if it comes to that.”

Lance nodded, breathing deep as he mentally pulled at his own skin to keep it close. He could do this. He could _totally_ do this.

o.o.o.o.o

Massive dark blue wings flared out in the middle of Hunk’s room, just barely scraping against the walls.

“Man, we are _lucky_ that the doors are locked.” Hunk said, moving to rub Lance’s back. “Need a moment?”

“Need something to drink, more like.” Lance shuddered as Hunk cupped the back of his neck, and turned to look at him out of the corner of his eye. “I promise I won’t take too much, and I can shore up my reserves with something raw from the kitchens later, but—”

“You need some blood ASAP?” Hunk’s voice was sympathetic, but not pitying. “C’mon, take a seat. Here, drink up.”

Lance did just that, moaning in relief as hot blood hit his parched throat. He’d needed this. Oh gods, he’d needed this.

“Shhhhh, there we go,” Hunk said, rubbing at the midnight-blue horns that spiraled back from Lance’s head. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Lance nodded a little, careful not to leave another scratch on Hunk with his sharper teeth. His tail crept forward to wrap possessively, protectively, around Hunk’s midsection, careful of the barbed end.

“Lance,” Hunk said warningly as they came up on the five minute limit. “You have to stop soon.”

Lance knew that, but he was so… god, he was so _thirsty_ , he had to… he pushed the limit on time and then paused, morosely licking the wounds in Hunk’s elbow to heal them and then sitting back to wrap his arms around his knees. He turned his head away from Hunk, biting his lip.

“We could tell the others, you know. They could help. Maybe Coran could figure out a blood substitute, or work more on finding meat, since then he’d know why the food goo isn’t helping enough even though it’s designed to have all the nutrients that humans need?” Hunk suggested, bringing a hand up to run along the arm of one of Lance’s wings. His voice was softer when he continued. “You used up so much of your reserves to heal yourself before we stuck you in the pods, Lance. What if that happens again?”

“Then it happens again. I just… if I were a vamp, even, I’d be less concerned, but I’m not. You know they’ll start judging me if they know, Hunk. They’ll watch me like I’m dangerous if I start flirting with someone, or ask me if there’s a chance I’ll go feral if I don’t fuck someone often enough, even though I’d tell them I don’t _need_ sex to survive since I’m a hybrid, or just… please let me have this, Hunk. Please let them treat me like a normal human being.” Lance raised his head to look Hunk in the eye, and he hoped the panic wasn’t visible. “ _Please_.”

Hunk leaned in to hug him, and Lance buried his face into the crook of Hunk’s neck. Sure, he could feel the throbbing heat of Hunk’s carotid from this angle, and it was kind of tempting to just sink his teeth in and not let go, but he had better control than that. He didn’t need blood anymore. He just needed… this. Contact. Hugs. Whatever.

“You know you’ll have to come clean to them sometime, no matter how hard we try, right?” Hunk asked quietly. “A med bay scan might reveal you’re not fully human, or I’ll get hurt and you’ll lose the ability to control all of _this_ while I’m stuck in a pod, or you’ll be trapped in some situation where going full demon is the only way to survive, or—”

“I know, but maybe by that point I’ll be able to trust them, and I… I can’t do that, Hunk, not yet.” Lance breathed deep, trying to steady himself, and focused on his form. He felt the horns recede into his head, his pupils shift back to circles, the wings retract and meld into his back, his tail disappear like a cord into a vacuum cleaner, his fingernails retract from the near-claws they’d been…

He ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were back to normal human size, and smiled weakly at Hunk, shooting him a pair of finger guns. “How do I look?”

“Like a fuckboy.”

Lance barked out a laugh. “Well, I can work with that! Let’s go see about that raw meat, though. I need another snack.”

“Put your shirt on, Lance!”

o.o.o.o.o

Nyma was _pretty_. Sure, her proportions weren’t exactly normal, but Lance had bed weirder people back on Earth (the mermaid had been fun to figure out, last spring break). But she knew how to dress for her image and her _eyes_ were just… wow. Lance could have stared into those beauties forever. Purple eyes were something else.

She was also a very good manipulator. Lance probably would have fallen for it, honestly, if not for the fact that he’d spent _way_ too much time around the fae back home. Nyma reminded him just a little too much of the Seelie court, the few times he’d run into some of the gentry, and he’d been on that same too-careful edge he had around them as soon as she started talking.

Which… okay, so maybe he should have called her bluff, but he kind of wanted to see where she was going with this. He wanted to spring the trap for himself.

This was a bad decision.

“Well, I’m boned,” he said, watching as the spacecraft flew off with his lion in it, and then sighed. He glanced down at where his helmet was, and tried to reach for it with his toes. “And not even in the fun way.”

His helmet remained stubbornly out of reach even after he shimmied his way down the tree to gain as much distance as he could.

Shifting to demon form would have let him use his tail, but almost as soon as Lance thought of it, he dismissed the idea. Prehensile and longer than his legs? Sure, that would be helpful, until it ripped through his paladin suit, along with his wings. So no shifting to demon form.

Okay, he could do this, just take a deep breath, relax, and stretch out as far as possible.

His foot brushed against the helmet.

Bingo.

o.o.o.o.o

“Bull _shit_ ,” Keith said. “There’s no way you guessed that she was tricking you before she actually handcuffed you.”

“Oh come on, were you even listening to her? She sounded like…” okay, rephrase, they can’t know you’ve actually slept with fae, “Like, have you ever read Fair Folk stories?”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“C’mon, fae? Faeries? Seelie and Unseelie courts? I mean, I had her pegged as alien Seelie when she really ended up more of an Unseelie wannabe, but still.” Lance shrugged. “Fae.”

“…Lance, what the fuck is a… a Seelie?”

Lance felt his eyebrows climb. “Wait, are you telling me you’ve never heard of the faerie courts? You know like every cryptid and conspiracy theory known to mankind, but you somehow missed out on learning even basic facts about the supernatural side of things?”

Keith shrugged. “Aliens turned out to be real. There was more evidence for cryptids than a bunch of fairy tales.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, and he laughed out loud. “Oh man, that’s… that’s fucking hilarious. Okay, tell you what: I’ll start teaching you the truth behind all those ‘fairy tales,’ and you can decide for yourself if they’re real.”

“Wait, I wanna hear this stuff too,” Pidge said, butting back into the conversation. “Can we do this during dinner or something? You sound like you actually know this stuff and I kind of want to hear more now.”

Lance looked over at Shiro, who shrugged, and Hunk, who barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes, and then turned to the Alteans, who seemed not entirely interested but not entirely _un_ interested either, which he could mostly work with.

“Oh man, this is gonna be fun.”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance tried not to tease Hunk about Shay, he really did. But he had to do at least one thing, right?

He clapped a hand across the back of Hunk’s shoulders just before he left the room after his bi-nightly bloodsucking, grinning wide. “And hey, about Shay? I know you said you don’t feel that way about her, just remember: not all interspecies romances are doomed to failure! I happened, didn’t I?”

“Lance, I’ve met your parents, and even _I_ don’t want to be that sappy.”

“Missing the point, Hunk.”

“I know what the point is and I am deliberately aiming in the opposite direction. Now go to sleep, Lance.”

“Boooooo,” Lance said, laughing as he exited to the hallway.

“Lance?”

He spun around, tense and almost panicking, then forced himself to relax. “Oh. Hi, Shiro.”

“Are you okay?” Shiro frowned and came closer, reaching up to rub at something on Lance’s face like his Mamá did sometimes back home. “You have some blood under your mouth, what happened?”

“Ah, shit, again?” Lance reached up to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand where Shiro had been focused, making a face. “Sometimes I brush my teeth too hard, or floss, and it breaks the gums. Did I get it?”

It was an excuse that had worked surprisingly well at the Garrison. People didn’t really believe him if he tried to lie about what it was without a good substitute on hand, but they’d believe a lot about other sources.

“…yeah, you did.” Shiro’s frown deepened. “Your gums shouldn’t be tearing that easily just because you’re brushing your teeth. It’s usually indicative of some degree of improper nutrition. Do I need to talk to Coran or Hunk about getting your meals adjusted?”

Lance opened his mouth to deny it, then subsided and winced. “Actually, if you’re offering… Hunk already knows this, but I kind of need more iron in my diet than most people. Is that a thing that can happen?”

A relieved smile broke across Shiro’s face, and he reached out to ruffle Lance’s hair. “I’ll talk to Coran. This seems like something you’re not entirely comfortable with, so thanks for trusting me with it.”

Lance smiled, hiding the twist of guilt in the pit of his stomach until Shiro was gone.

He dropped his face into his hands with a quiet groan as soon as the older man was gone, heading for the bathroom to _actually_ brush his teeth.

Lance was going to come clean eventually, he really was! Just… not yet.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance took great, deep lungfuls of air as he tried to recover from… whatever that was.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , he berated himself. He should have _checked_ before he ran in, not just run in headfirst. Running into this headfirst was Keith’s thing, and who had saved him? Keith. Of course.

“What were you doing out there?”

"Who was that guy?"

"He was trying to kill me!"

"Well, is he the Castle? Because that's who's trying to kill me!"

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Lance turned to rest his head against the wall as Keith slid to the ground.

“We just almost _died,_ ” Keith said, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “Straight up murdered. By the _castle_.”

_Wouldn’t be the first time a sentient building tried to kill me_ , Lance thought. _If I never go back to Scotland, it’ll be too soon._

“Aw, quiznak,” Keith said, and Lance turned to see that Keith was staring at his own hand, frowning.

“What’s up?”

“Got cut,” Keith grunted, showing Lance his hand. There was indeed a cut between his thumb and forefinger, stretching down towards the palm from the edge, maybe an inch or so long. It wasn’t bleeding much, which Lance assumed was why he hadn’t smelled it yet.

…it would freak Keith out a bit, probably, but it would be weird enough to maybe get him to relax despite the whole Castle-murder thing.

“It doesn’t look that deep,” Lance said, taking a step closer and sinking to his knees next to Keith. He took Keith’s hand into his own, a little surprised at the lack of resistance, and took a closer look. Lance’s initial reading of the wound had been right, and when he looked up at Keith, all he got in response was a shrug.

So Lance slowly brought the hand up to his face and licked the blood off, leaving behind just a tad of energy and saliva to urge the cut to close faster. It couldn’t be much, but enough to help it along without making Keith suspicious was fine, right?

Keith’s jaw dropped in sheer shock and confusion. “What the fuck?”

Lance shrugged, and looked back at the wound. “I was right. It’s not as deep as it looked.” _Anymore_.

“What the _fuck?”_ Keith repeated. “No, seriously, what was that? Why did you just—”

“Let’s go find Hunk and Pidge,” Lance practically chirped, springing to his feet and turning away to stride towards the hangars, where the two were probably nerding out or something. “We should make sure they aren’t being murdered by the castle either.”

“Lance? Lance! Lance, what the fuck?!” Keith yelled, scrambling to his feet and jogging to catch up.

“Keith?”

“ _What.”_

“Just accept the weird thing and move on with your life.”

Lance ignored the sputtering with an easy smile, but the wheels in his brain were turning.

Keith hadn’t tasted fully human. Keith’s blood had, in fact, tasted precisely _half_ human, much like Lance himself. And honestly, going by Pidge’s complaints that only Galra or Galra tech could operate other Galra tech, the fact that Keith had been able to open the hangar on the Balmera, and the fact that Lance, for all his ‘experience’ with non-human species that could nonetheless interbreed with humans, didn’t recognize the taste of that other half…

Oh dear. Lance had a fairly good guess as to what that other half was.

o.o.o.o.o

“Do you think you could…?” Hunk whispered to Lance as they watched Coran try to get through to Allura, banging on some force field with everything in him.

“Uh… no? The hell could I do?” Lance shot him a confused look. “Corrupted tech is your field, dude.”

“Yeah, but…” Hunk trailed off as he saw Lance shaking his head minutely, glancing at the other paladins out of the corner of his eyes. Hunk sighed. “Never mind.”

Lance felt like his head was pounding, honestly. There was definitely some kind of psychic field pressing down on Allura, but it was so built into the _science_ of the ship that it hurt his head to try to work around. His own trance abilities weren’t half bad, but that was biology and magic, not… not tech.

And if there was one time he’d have let himself use those abilities, breaking someone else out of some kind of illusion or mind control was definitely it.

_Sorry, Allura. Looks like I can’t help this time._

o.o.o.o.o

Shapeshifters.

The Alteans were _shapeshifters_.

Limited ones, sure, tied to their own form with apparently only changes in size and a single color as their variables, but still. Shapeshifters. That was. Kind of. Hm.

Lance wondered if they felt their skin crawl the way his did when they shifted forms and then didn’t have enough quintessence or something. They probably had one ’true’ form or whatever, right? And then just variations on that? That was pretty different from Lance’s two forms with a sliding scale of traits from one or the other as his limits, but he could… if he ever _told_ them what he was… he could maybe bond over that?

Whatever.

o.o.o.o.o

_Quintessence, huh?_ Lance stared at the yellow fluid, something in him urging him to go down and drink it.

That was… probably a bad idea. It looked like a heavily concentrated form of magic energy, and that never ended well. Still, magic. That wasn’t something that any of the other paladins were likely to have experience with.

And here he was, like half a mile away, while Keith was fighting some magic… thing. Druids, he’d heard someone say, but that was going to get confusing _fast._

(He’d met actual druids back on Earth. Had fun with one. These were not Earth’s druids.)

“I’m gonna go help Keith,” he said, getting to his feet and heading for the door.

“That seems like a _terrible_ idea,” Pidge said. “Like, absolutely awful.”

“Someone needs to save his reckless ass,” Lance insisted, catching Hunk’s eyes. “Besides, who knows how that quintessence stuff is going to react when he stabs it? What do _we_ know about magic?”

Hunk winced minutely, but nodded. “Let him go, guys. Keith could probably use some ranged backup.”

“Thank you, Hunk.” Lance nodded primly, then headed for the door.

Once he was out of sight of the others, if just barely, he paused. He hadn’t had a drink recently, not enough, but this was a battle. If he just focused enough… there.

Extended eyeteeth to proper fang size, but no other ‘problem’ changes that could maybe tear through his suit. It was enough, though, to help him change the subtler parts of his body, to make himself just that much stronger, faster, more durable. Not all the way to what he could have been, if he’d fed on blood or sex recently, or if he’d shifted completely, but… it was half his heritage. It was half of him. He wasn’t just human. He was sex and death in a form that could kill both literally and figuratively.

_Demon_.

Well, yes. As he’d ever been.

He took off for Keith at a sprint, faster than a human should have been able to manage, and lifted his gun up as he did so, sighting on Keith. If he was lucky, he’d be able to shoot off a laser blast if the Galra Druid popped up behind Keith again. It probably wouldn’t hit, but it would buy him enough time to get in close and just… see what he was dealing with.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance failed. In his defense, so did Shiro and Allura. Not that it helped to think of that at all.

Then the rescue mission failed even worse, sort of. They got Allura back! For all of like… five minutes. And then the wormhole got all corrupted.

Because of _course_ it did.


	2. I Am HANDLING This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance has a sexual encounter, but the only part that makes it onscreen is the one line of noises that the rest of the team accidentally overhears. He also helps save a planet, helps get a video game, and helps himself to some blood.
> 
> Hunk is #Tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: off-screen interspecies sexual activity, more blood-drinking, some half-assed slut-shaming, and discussions of menstruation by a trans male character.

Alien mermaids.

That was unexpected.

Lance wasn’t going to judge, though. He was actually pretty excited. He _loved_ merfolk; they tended to get just as excited about the water as he did, or at least humor him about it.

Granted, there was a certain degree of _creepy_ in this town. Very uncomfy. Very… aw, fuck.

Brainwashing.

He kept an eye and an ear out, trying to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t the dancing octopus, no matter how much of a red herring it played itself up to be, and it wasn’t any kind of sound, so…

Oh wow, this food was really nice. Huh.

He felt… so warm… so very safe…

o.o.o.o.o

Lance woke up suddenly and completely in the middle of the night.

_It was the food._

He sat up, looked over at Hunk, and winced. This was chemical, so it was probably in the bloodstream somehow, so he could… probably filter it out. His own body had clearly filtered out whatever it was faster than Hunk’s had, so yay for an incubus metabolism?

He shuddered. His skin felt shaky again. Crawling. Pinpricks and goosebumps, everywhere. He hadn’t had blood or meat since… since a short bathroom break with Hunk right before they’d gone to rescue Allura. It hadn’t been that long, objectively, but he’d done so _much_ in that time, expended so much energy, and it had barely been a snack anyway. There’d been some quintessence in the food, something similar enough to the energy he got from sex that he could at least process it for a bit of a boost, but it was barely anything at all. Enough for the brainwashing to take place, but little else.

Lance looked over at Hunk again. He had to get Hunk out of here, had to de-brainwash him before he did anything else. Hopefully time and deprivation of whatever was in the food would do the trick, but he needed to get out, first.

He pulled in on his skin again. He couldn’t afford to shift, not while he was in his armor.

Get Hunk out, de-brainwash so he was capable of consenting in his right mind, and then get a drink (unless Hunk said no, in which case he was going to have to get back to Blue and ditch the armor or something).

(Whatever, that could be Plan B.)

He tensed as something bored a hole in the wall, and lay back down, pretending to be asleep.

Okay, so, someone was here to get him out. Revolutionaries, apparently. They almost left behind Hunk, but Lance was beyond done at the moment, and starving, and irritated by his own damn body betraying him, so he just… stopped pretending and ripped through the sack.

“Move.”

They panicked, but Lance went to the hole they’d made, pushed Hunk back out and set to work widening it. Sure, he couldn’t do it with normal human strength, but he could pull it off if he used his demon side, and he’d already decided to stop caring.

Someone was trying to mind control his friend. Someone was trying to strip Hunk’s free will from him. That wasn’t okay. It was _never_ okay to do that to an innocent.

He managed to pull Hunk through the slightly larger hole, well aware of the stares he was getting, and the voices in the hall, but he was tired. Lance was _tired_.

“So? Lead the way.”

“You aren’t mindswished?” One of them asked, eyes wide behind her…jellyfish hat? Squid hat? Whatever.

“I’m special. Do you have a way of undoing whatever it is that they did to my friend?” Lance asked.

“…yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Can I talk to Hunk for a moment?” Lance said partway through the discussion, though after Hunk had already been woken up. “Alone?”

Tittering, a hushed discussion, and a recalcitrant agreement. Good enough for him.

“Lance? You seem really… on edge.” Hunk moved to put a hand to Lance’s forehead, then paused and pulled back as he remembered that he was wearing his armor. “What’s wrong?”

Lance’s eyes fell to his own lap, one hand reaching out shakily to land on the inside of Hunk’s elbow, thumb rubbing circles into the fabric. He looked back up with wide, pleading eyes.

“…how close?”

“I’m about to rip through my armor, Hunk, I _can’t_ , I just—” Lance took a deep, hitching breath. “Hunk, I’m so sorry, I’m _sorry,_ but I used up so much energy when I was in the battle, and again just now, that I can’t—”

Hunk reached out and pulled Lance’s face to his neck, yanking down the fabric to bare the skin. “I can’t take off the armor, because the water pressure would be a problem, but here.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered, even as he awkwardly maneuvered around the high collar of the armor so he could sink his teeth into the highest part of Hunk’s neck. It wasn’t the safest place, but it would do for now, and he’d heal it up after he finished drinking, heal it up enough that it wouldn’t be an issue. It _wouldn’t_ , because he’d already caused Hunk enough trouble with this bullshit since coming to space that he wasn’t going to cause more.

“You need to have a backup plan, Lance.” Hunk’s voice was soft, but firm. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Mm,” Lance hummed, unable to articulate a reply while drinking.

“…is this normal for your species?”

Lance felt Hunk stiffen, but he couldn’t turn to look, not yet. He couldn’t promise himself anything until he finished drinking as much as he could without hurting Hunk.

“No,” Hunk finally said. “Lance can explain what’s going on when he’s done, if he wants to, but… no, this is not normal for humans. It’s also not something we want anyone knowing about, even our own team, so…”

“I will keep it a secret,” the mermaid said, sounding closer than she’d been when she first spoke. Lance finally pulled away from Hunk’s neck, licking a little to heal the wound before pulling away fully.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Just… find a solution, Lance,” Hunk sighed.

“Hello, again,” the mermaid said, waving to get their attention. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry, which one are you? I didn’t catch all your names earlier.” Lance gave her the sunniest smile he could. “I’ve been a little… out of sorts.”

“Plaxum,” she said, drifting closer. “Were you… consuming your friend’s bodily fluids?”

Lance winced. Hunk didn’t do much better. “Um… yeah, I was.”

“This isn’t normal for your species, though?”

“It’s, um… it’s not normal for humans, no, but I’m…” Lance scrambled for words, but they failed him. He’d been here for only a handful of hours, and he’d already lost his façade. He sighed and dropped it all. “I’m only half human. The other half is… I don’t know if you know what an incubus is, but basically, I have a second form, and if I don’t drink blood regularly, then I can’t control which form I’m in, and I’d rip through my armor if I lost control right now.”

“You need to drink bodily fluids to control your shape? Is that all?” Plaxum floated a little closer.

“It’s nowhere _near_ everything, but it’s the relevant part. And, really, it’s only certain bodily fluids.” Lance scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “Not a lot of people know, not even my team, so please don’t tell anyone.”

“Is it a shameful thing, to be only half human?”

“Well, not entirely?” Lance started to curl in on himself, despite his best efforts to treat this casually. “But the other half of my parentage, the incubus, that’s not a species that most people even _believe_ in. We aren’t real, as far as they know. And what they do know, the myths and legends, they don’t paint a very pretty picture.”

“I… see.” Plaxum drifted closer, taking a seat next to them on the smooth rock. “Have you consumed enough?”

“Blood? No, nowhere near, but it’ll tide me over for now.” Lance rubbed at his temple. “I lost some energy fighting off the brainwashing, or, I think you called it mindswishing? But I lost some energy because my body had to process the chemicals that were causing it, and I was already low when we crashed…”

“Chemicals?” Plaxum asked, sitting up straighter. “You think the mindswishing is being caused by a chemical?”

“Uh, yeah? In the food.” Lance scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s definitely not anything auditory or visual, or I’d have noticed, and I mean, your cure is chemical too, and we weren’t brainwashed until we started eating, so I’m pretty sure it’s the food.”

Plaxum tilted her head. “You’ve experienced mindswishing before?”

Lance winced and made a so-so motion with his hand. “Some kinds, mostly by family so I could recognize it if someone ever tried to use it on me. I mean, I can trance people too, but that’s like eight different kinds of unethical, so… no. Nope. Not doing that unless it’s in the Jedi Mind Tricks way to win the war.”

“Lance, they were pretty sure it was an auditory thing,” Hunk said. “I mean, you might have been too out of it to notice, but are you sure?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Plaxum frowned, swimming away a little ways as though pacing, then reached up and removed her squid hat. “Well, if you are certain, then there is no need for this.”

Lance felt his jaw drop, then immediately pulled on a grin. “Well, I had no idea you were so pretty under that thing! It’s a pleasure to be in the presence of such a beauty.”

Plaxum gave him a blank look. “In any case, do you believe you will be able to avoid the queen’s mindswishing now that you know what it is?”

“Easily,” Lance said, accepting the fact that now wasn’t really the best time to flirt. “Do you want to go get your friends before we move on, or…?”

Plaxum frowned a little, biting her lip. “There is one thing I would like to ask first.”

“Shoot.”

“Would you perform better in battle if given more bodily fluids to consume?”

Lance stilled, as the implications of the question hit him. “I would, but it would be bad for Hunk.”

“And if someone else were to give you _their_ bodily fluids?” Plaxum asked, one hand drifting up to rest on her own neck as she looked away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Lance said immediately. “Seriously, don’t do it just because you feel obligated or something.”

“You have said that you do not take enough to harm the person that is…feeding you,” Plaxum hesitated, as though choosing her words particularly carefully. “And I would prefer that you are in your best condition if you are to be fighting for the freedom of my people. I believe that you can save us, but I would feel better if you were at your best.”

“…oh.” Lance could feel his own face coloring red, a mixture of shame and guilt and embarrassment curdling in his guilt. “Um. Okay, then?”

Plaxum swam back over and nodded. “Will this hurt?”

“No, there’s, um, there’s a numbing agent in my saliva. I haven’t really encountered any species that are allergic to it yet, so you should be fine? And I can heal it up when we’re done, so that’s not going to…” Lance took a deep breath, then hissed it out. “I’m sorry, I’m just still not super comfortable with this.”

“I have agreed, and it will help. I will do whatever I can to help my revolution.” Plaxum narrowed her eyes and came closer. “Where do you need to bite?”

“Anywhere works,” Lance admitted. “The neck is traditional, especially during sex, but the crook of the elbow is pretty safe and innocuous, and easier to hide, so I usually go for that on Hunk.”

Plaxum nodded and held out her arm. “That works for me.”

Lance carefully took her arm in his hands, breathed deep, and let his fangs grow.

He sank his teeth in and drank.

o.o.o.o.o

They saved an entire planet. That was just… wow. Okay. Lance and Hunk, alone from the team, just saved an entire _planet_ on their own. He still had no idea what the Baku garden creature had been, but hey, they’d beaten it and saved the place and it felt _good_.

And then Plaxum gave him a kiss, so that was nice too.

“Hey, about earlier… I just wanted to say thanks again. You really didn’t have to do that.”

Plaxum held a hand up to her mouth and laughed, and _wow_ , she was a lot less serious now that they’d ended the brainwashing. It wasn’t a surprise, but still. “It wasn’t a problem, Paladin.”

“The name’s Lance,” he said, taking her hand and planting a kiss on it with a wink. “Might as well introduce myself properly, now that that’s all over. And I’d be heartbroken if such a pretty girl and amazing revolutionary didn’t know my name.”

She laughed again, and Lance’s smile widened. Plaxum took her hand back, but drifted closer. “If I could ask something?”

“Go for it.”

“You said that there were other elements to your, ah, parentage.” Her eyes flickered around the area, aware that she couldn’t get too detailed without breaking her promise. “Can I know more?”

“Oh. Um. Sure?” Lance scratched the back of his neck. “Not in public, though.”

“Of course!” Plaxum grabbed his hand and started swimming away, dragging him along through the water. Hunk glanced after them, but didn’t comment. They ended up in a little room, something of a cave with a door, alone.

“So?” Plaxum asked, taking a seat on the bed, or the local equivalent. “I’m assuming there are things I shouldn’t know regardless.”

“I mean, kind of?” Lance jetted a little closer and sat down next to her. “What do you want to know?”

“What _is_ the difference between humans and your other half?” Plaxum asked. “What are they called?”

“Oh, um… well, the other half is called concubi. Traditionally, we’re actually called incubi and succubi, but those terms are both pretty sexist and heteronormative, and kind of archaic at this point. I usually just say incubus, though, since people recognize the term more easily.” Lance sighed. “And my breed of incubus is technically a vampire subspecies.”

“Vampire?” Plaxum prompted.

So Lance explained, from his eating habits to what was or wasn’t necessary, to what this meant for his biology, to what the cultural differences between humans and supernatural creatures were.

(Infinite, because there were so many human cultures that the supernatural only expanded that number exponentially.)

“So your planet has a species similar to mine, then.”

“I mean, not identical; you’re still pretty obviously alien? But the mostly humanoid upper half with a fishtail is a form that exists back home, too.” Lance ran a hand down the pigtail-like appendages on Plaxum’s head, earning a laugh from the mermaid herself. “And I gotta say, you’re _gorgeous._ ”

“As you’ve mentioned. Thank you.” Plaxum tilted her head, gaze considering. “You said you’ve had sexual encounters with a significant number of species.”

“Um… yeah.” Please don’t slutshame…

“Have you done so with the merfolk of your home world?”

“What? I mean, yes, but only once. It was a… learning experience?” Lance shrugged. “Why?”

“Would you say that you’re good at figuring out how to pleasure species that have entirely different bodies from what you’re used to?”

“I mean, all it takes is patience and experience, so y… _oh_.” Lance blinked. “Are you saying you want to…”

Plaxum shrugged. “I can’t convince you out of your armor, because that would kill you, but I have to admit that I’m curious. Consider it a ‘thank you.’”

Lance frowned. “If you’re only doing this out of obliga—”

She put a finger to his lips and smiled. “I heard what you said earlier. And I will make it clear: I am a fully consenting individual. I understand that, with your armor in the way, you most likely will not be getting pleasured in return, but nonetheless am asking if you would like to… experiment. The decision is up to you to accept or not.”

He blinked, and then just… let the human side fall to the wayside a little, letting instincts he hadn’t relied on in weeks float to the surface, instincts that would tell him where to lick and press and nip to make a person _scream_ in pleasure. “Well, I _am_ good at oral. Let me just send Hunk a message to tell him I’ll be a bit… busy, for the foreseeable future.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Hunk?” Pidge’s voice came through the comms as Hunk pulled his helmet back on. “Where’s Lance?”

“Mermaids.”

“…that’s not telling us much,” Pidge complained. “Seriously, where’s Lance?”

“Somewhere in the mermaid castle? I don’t know where he is, just that he’s busy.”

“Doing _what?”_ Keith demanded.

“You really don’t want to know the answer to that question, Keith,” Hunk said. “Just… trust him to get back in a few hours. He’s safe.”

“I’m gonna call him,” Pidge decided.

“No, don—”

“He needs to know that we can’t just wait on him like this,” Allura said. “Hunk, I know you want to be on Lance’s side whenever possible, but he needs to know his obligations.”

“He _does_ know, and, listen, you can lecture him later, but now is a really bad—”

Pidge finally got through to Lance’s helmet, bypassing the need for him to actually pick up the call.

 _“—yes, right there, right—ah, yes, ye—_ ”

Pidge shut down the comm link, and for a long moment, the team sat in silence.

“Hunk,” Shiro finally said, voice strained. “Who was that?”

“Probably Plaxum.”

“Who’s Plaxum?”

“One of the mermaids. She and Lance were getting along pretty well earlier.”

“…Without details, please tell me if Lance is doing what I think he’s doing.”

“He’s getting laid, yeah.”

“…right, I’ll lecture him when he gets back.”

o.o.o.o.o

“I know you want to lecture me, but I’ve got to either take a cold shower or get some alone time first,” Lance said as soon as he stepped out of Blue, holding up a hand to forestall questions. His helmet was conspicuously held in front of his crotch.

“I thought you were getting laid?” Pidge said before anyone else could. “Did you just, like, leave in the middle or something?”

“Uh, no,” Lance pointed at her. “But you’re, like, twelve, so I’m not going to get into the details. All I need to say is that she finished, and I didn’t, because I couldn’t take off my armor due to the water pressure, and finishing while _in_ the armor would have left me with a ridiculous mess to clean up. So… cold shower time. I can be done in, like, five minutes. Then you can yell at me.”

Shiro had his face in his hands, and Lance could see the reddening skin between his fingers. He winced internally; he hadn’t meant to make Shiro embarrassed or uncomfortable or whatever, but…

Sex. Someone he was legitimately interested in had offered some degree of sexual interactions, no strings attached, and after a battle like the Galactic Hub and the lack of blood recently, he wouldn’t have said no even if she _hadn’t_ been as pretty and as downright cool as she was.

“Wait, so then what was the point?” Keith asked, making a face. “What did you even _do?”_

“Uh, things that I don’t want to talk about within earshot of Pidge,” Lance said bluntly.

“I’m not _that_ young, Lance," Pidge protested. "There are people getting _pregnant_ at my age, okay, I can handle hearing a few bad words.”

Lance gave the ceiling a pleading look, but no help came. “Okay, fine, I’m _really_ _good_ at oral, and I did it because she asked if I wanted to experiment with… an unfamiliar setup, shall we say. As for not getting anything out of it… that’s just… if you’re asking what I get out of it if I’m not the one orgasming, and just pleasuring the other party, then you’re not sexually mature enough to hear details.”

Keith was immediately spluttering at that, but Lance ignored him and headed for the door. He hesitated by Allura and Coran, and then nodded. “Sorry for making you wait. I’ll be quick, and then you can… yeah.”

“…Are you injured?” Allura finally asked, after a long moment where she seemed to be struggling with the urge to express her anger somehow.

“Nope! Good as new!” And he really was; the activities with Plaxum had given him enough energy to heal himself, fix the bruise he’d given Hunk, and just overall left him feeling more healthy and rested than he had since coming to space. He was pretty sure it had even fixed some of the damage to his skin and hair.

Basically, Lance felt _great_.

“We’ll be waiting to discuss your… _activities_ , and when they are or aren’t appropriate, in the control room. You have half a varga.” Allura turned on her heel and left.

“I feel slutshamed,” Lance said mildly. “Hunk? Hunk, I feel like people are slutshaming me.”

“They are.”

“That’s rude.”

“I _told_ them not to try calling you, but…”

“Wait, you guys were _listening in on my sex life?”_

o.o.o.o.o

“Okay, but after Plaxum, I’m fine!” Lance insisted. “We can skip tonight, Hunk. I don’t want to put you through this if I don’t have to.”

“And I don’t want you to end up starving because we stuck to the bare minimum again.” Hunk held out his arm to Lance, a hard look in his eyes. “I’d rather you feed on the schedule we already set up, even if it’s not entirely necessary. Now drink.”

“But—”

“Lance, I love you and all, but I’m putting my foot down. _Drink_.”

Lance drank.

o.o.o.o.o

Olkarion was… tempting, at least a little. The people were mostly humanoid, more or less attractive, friendly and intelligent enough to be capable of consent… basically all of Lance’s minimum qualifications.

There wasn’t enough time, though. Unfortunately.

(Also, Allura probably would have handed him his ass if he’d tried to get laid again.)

o.o.o.o.o

Taujeer wasn’t tempting. At all.

o.o.o.o.o

The Space Mall actually was! But, well, _Pidge needed help_. And Lance wasn’t always the best kind of friend (he knew he overstepped bounds sometimes, like when he told Hunk that the math-y ghost joke was boring, okay, he was _working_ on it), but all he needed to do was look at the stars in Pidge’s eyes and he was gone. His friend slash weird little sister figure wanted a video game?

Okay, then.

_She was getting a fucking video game._

And Lance planned to maybe look around and try to find someone to make out with afterwards, at least, but apparently Keith and Hunk somehow managed to piss off the mall cop? So they got chased by Galra Paul Blart while riding a floating cow, and then Lance hit his head, and honestly the entire thing did not end well.

“Net positive, Lance!” Pidge reminded him, holding up a medical scanner. “We got the game and the lenses and even a cow!”

“Could make a few decent steaks out of it, too,” Hunk mused.

“No! Nobody’s touching Kaltenecker!” Lance yelled, immediately pouting and subsiding when Pidge poked him in the shoulder and told him to _stay still, dammit._

“Well, looks like you don’t have a concussion, so that’s good.” Pidge put away the medical scanner. “Just some bruising, which should fade on its own in time.”

So... overnight, while nobody was watching.

“Seriously, though, that’s a couple _months_ of meals for us, at least, if we have some proper preservation stuff on board. A lot of burgers, maybe use the bones as a base for a soup, figure out how to tan the hide for some leather, uh…” Hunk glanced at Lance pretty directly. “Maybe blood pudding?”

_Take the opportunity._

Lance frowned harder. “Nobody hurts Kaltenecker.”

Hunk threw his hands in the air and gave up.

Lance wasn’t going to let them eat Kaltenecker, and he wasn’t going to suck the blood of some poor living creature that couldn’t even _agree_ to it.

o.o.o.o.o

“So…” Hunk said as Lance pulled away from the crook of his elbow, licking his lips and eyeing Hunk’s skin to make sure that there definitely wasn’t a bruise this time. “What do you think is going on down there?”

Lance shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Suspicions?” Hunk shifted a little closer. “ _Magic_ suspicions?”

“They are _not_ magic su—” Lance frowned for a moment as something in the air registered to his back-to-normal senses, and then sniffed the air again. That was… “Hunk?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you been keeping track of the date?”

“Uh… not really?” Hunk frowned. “Why?”

“I’m smelling a hormone change.”

“…which means what, exactly?”

“How close were you to your period when we left Earth?”

Hunk thought about it for a moment, then dropped his head into his hands. “Shit.”

Lance patted his back. “You’ve got a few days to figure out a plan, at least? I mean, I usually smell the ovulation a few days before the menstruation starts, so you have two or three to, I don’t know, talk to Allura maybe? See if Coran’s got something that can work as a substitute in the med bay? I don’t know if Alteans menstruate, so you might end up with something weird.”

“At least I have an early warning system,” Hunk joked, flopping over sideways on his bed and groaning as he rolled onto his back. “Ugh, do you think I could get some kind of pill to make it stop or something?”

“I don’t know. Probably? I mean, there are birth control pills back home that can limit you to every few months instead of every month, so it might not be _that_ hard to get the castle to synthesize something similar?” Lance flopped down on top of his best friend, pillowing his head just under Hunk’s chin. “I mean, people have been going through this for millennia. And hey, at least we know they have painkillers, right?”

“Still doesn’t solve the bleeding,” Hunk grumbled.

Lance winced. “Yeah, that’s… I wish I could do something to help, but short of two _very_ unpleasant options, I don’t think there’s much I can do to stop Mother Nature’s monthly gift.”

“…impregnation and turning?” Hunk guessed drily.

“Yeah.”

“You’re right. Those are both indeed unpleasant options.”

“I know you so well.”

“I know, right?”

Lance laughed, rolling off of Hunk and onto the bed. Hunk snorted and awkwardly maneuvered one hand to pat Lance on the head.

“So, about Keith…” Hunk said.

Lance groaned, putting his hands over his face. “Can we not?”

“You know something.”

“I do.”

“Lance…” Hunk sighed. “C’mon, you can trust me.”

“Hunk, I love you and all, but you and privacy aren’t exactly on the best terms.” Lance huffed. He did relent a little. “I know a secret about Keith that even he doesn’t know, and until he finds out _and_ chooses to tell everyone, I’m not talking.”

He felt Hunk’s eyes on him, and shifted uncomfortably.

Hunk pulled him into a hug. “I know you and Keith don’t always get along, but you’re a really good friend to him anyway, Lance.”

“Damn straight I am,” Lance said, voice muffled by the fabric of Hunk’s shirt.

“We should get back to the others,” Hunk muttered. “They’re probably wondering where we are by now.”

“…yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about the way in which all sexual encounters will be approached in this fic. They certainly happen, maybe even frequently, but they don't get described in detail, happen on screen, or are in any way meant to titillate. They are there for plot or to provide a setting for as much awkwardness as possible.


	3. Maybe I Can't Handle This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance finally tells someone other than Hunk, because Keith needs someone in his corner.
> 
> (Also, Shiro regrets everything.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for minor sexual content, as well as serious discussions of sexual issues, the importance of consent, and the intersectionality of racism, sexism, interspecies bigotry, and so on.

Keith knew he was half-Galra.

Or, well, he knew he was _part_ Galra, and told everyone straight out after he came back from the Blade of Marmora headquarters.

Hunk caught Lance’s eye at one point, and jerked his chin at Keith with one raised eyebrow. _Was this the secret?_

Lance shrugged, wincing a little. _Yep._

Hunk puffed out his cheeks as he gave a silent sigh, turning back to Keith. Allura wasn’t taking it well, though Coran at least wasn’t reacting poorly on the outside.

Keith finally left, and Lance would have said that he’d stormed out if he hadn’t looked quite so much like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Lance,” Shiro called as Lance headed for the door.

He turned a little, just enough to look at Shiro. “I’m not going there to piss him off, I promise.”

Shiro pursed his lips, but hesitantly nodded. “Be careful.”

Lance gave a jaunty salute as he left, heading for Keith’s room. All the medical stuff had already been taken care of, and Keith was probably going to go for a shower now, so… yeah. His room.

He paused outside the door, one hand raised to knock. He hadn’t willingly told anyone since Hunk. But… but Keith was hurting, a lot, and he needed someone to help. And Lance could do that if he just came clean.

His stomach clenched, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath and knocked.

“Go away, Shiro.”

“It’s Lance.”

“…Yeah, no, go away.”

Lance took a shuddering breath. He could feel his hands shaking, his skin overheating and jittering over his form despite having met up with Hunk just a few hours earlier.

“Keith, please let me in.” He made a fist and focused on the mild pain of his still-human fingernails digging into his skin. “I know you don’t want to talk to anyone right now, but… but this is important.”

The door slid open, and Keith stood there, looking ragged and maybe a little red-eyed. He practically growled when he spoke. “ _What._ ”

“Can I come in?”

Keith almost answered, but then paused and looked Lance up and down. His eyes narrowed further, and Lance could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped the doorframe even harder.

“You’re scared of me.”

“Ha!” Lance choked out the laugh. “Scared of you, no. No, no, no, I’m scared of what I’m going to tell you, because… listen, can I _please_ come inside?”

Keith’s face didn’t lose its anger, but a cast of confusion made its way over on top. “And why can’t you say it here?”

“You’re brave enough to tell the entire team your secrets. I’m not.” Lance looked down, away from Keith’s face and down at his hands. Oh. He’d crossed his arms at some point, and his fingers were digging into his biceps hard enough to hurt. With a heavy dose of deliberation, Lance unclenched his fingers and dropped his hands to his sides, making fists. “I promise I’m here because I think you might feel better if you know mine, I just… I can’t tell you if everyone else finds out, too.”

“You… look kind of sick,” Keith finally said. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”

“Yep, yes, totally sure.” Lance sucked in a deep breath. “Now please let me in so I can make you feel better and get this over with.”

Keith’s jaw worked up and down for a few moments, but he stepped back and to the side, letting Lance in.

Lance ran in and immediately took a seat on the floor. He could do this. He could totally do this.

Keith shut the door and headed over towards the bed to take a seat.

“Is the door locked?”

Keith shot him a look, but nodded. “Yeah. So, why are you all… panicky?”

Lance clenched his jaw and forced himself to relax, bit by bit. The knot in his chest didn’t relax. “I saw Allura. And how she reacted to you telling us that you’re half-Galra.”

“We don’t know that it’s half,” Keith said immediately.

“I do.”

The tenseness in the air rose slowly. Lance kept his eyes focused on the floor.

“And… how do you know?”

“I could…” _taste it in your blood_ , but he couldn’t say it. His tongue twisted up in his mouth, and he felt that knot tighten and he couldn’t just _say_ it. “I…”

“If you’re not going to say anything, you can just leave, you know.” Keith’s voice was stony, uncomfortably so. “If you’re just here to… to make fun of me for being half-Galra, then—”

“I’m not!”

“Then what?” Keith demanded. “If this is your way of… of coming out of the closet or s—”

“HA!”

Lance covered his mouth as Keith gave him a very strange look.

“…Lance.”

“Sorry.”

“Lance, I’m still kind of pissed.”

“I figured.”

“I’m also really confused.”

“…yeah, I can imagine.”

“So this… _isn’t_ you coming out of the closet?” Keith asked carefully. “Because when you said the whole thing about secrets, I kind of assumed it was you trying to… do some kind of solidarity thing. Or something.”

“I mean… not really.”

“ _Lance_.”

“I mean, I could tell you I’m bi, but I’ve never gone out of my way to _hide_ that. I wouldn’t be nearly as worried about coming out of the closet, because I’ve done that tons of times and I can deal with that kind of fallout.” Lance rushed out the words, because that was at least one thing he could get out of the way. “This is actually something that might… might make you feel better about…”

“About being half monster?” Keith said drily.

“…funny that you should phrase it like that.” Lance might have giggled a little at the end of the sentence. Panic giggle, yay.

“I don’t follow.”

“Half-monster. That’s just… that’s funny. To me. Because… fuck it. I can’t do the words thing right now.” Lance yanked off his jacket and started pulling at his shirt. “Are you sure the door is locked? Please tell me it’s locked. If someone walks in while I’m explaining, I might actually have a panic attack.”

“I… _what?_ ” Keith looked flabbergasted. Haha. Flabbergasted. That was a funny word. Lance’s brain was scampering around as he tried to get himself back on track despite the continually burgeoning panic. “I mean, yes, yes it’s locked, but wh—what does that have to do with me saying ‘half-monster?’ Why are you taking your shirt off? _What’s going on?_ ”

“Don’t want to rip it.” Lance bounced on the spot, still seated, taking a few quick, shallow breaths. “Please don’t judge me.”

“For _what?_ ”

Lance closed his eyes and _shifted_.

Keith’s sharp gasp made it obvious that he’d done it properly.

Lance knew what he looked like right now. He wasn’t self-conscious, when he was alone or with people who knew. He was a damn attractive demon, which he wasn’t entirely willing to say was just the incubus in him manifesting.

His wings were a shade of blue much darker than his lion’s, and those wings, massive and bat-like, had flared out across Keith’s rooms when he’d first shifted, but folded back in around him after a moment. His horns, the same color as his wings, were set back from his hairline, surrounded on all sides by hair, but spiraling up and back for several inches. His ears were a little more subtle than the rest, as far as changes went, but they were still pointedly (ha!) not human, tapering off diagonally, at a higher angle than the Alteans, but nowhere near the almost vertical points that elves back home had. His tail fought its way free from his pants, thankfully without tearing anything, and curled under the wing to lay across his lap.

Lance took a deep breath and slowly released it, opening his eyes to see his own arms (with fingers tipped in long, almost claw-like fingernails, of course) wrapped tightly around his knees. He looked up slowly to see Keith sitting on the bed, still frozen and staring.

He was probably in shock. Just a little bit. That was fair, given the day he’d had.

“So you’re not the only half-human hybrid on the team,” Lance croaked out, voice ugly with tension. “Yay?”

Keith got up from the bed and took two steps closer, kneeling in front of Lance and staring right into the slit-pupiled blue eyes, so much lighter in color than his other demonic attributes. Keith jerked a little in surprise as the nictitating membrane flickered across and back, but stilled after a moment, visibly deliberate in his calm. His eyes dropped to Lance’s mouth, and one hand reached up to pull back Lance’s lip and—

Right. He’d probably seen the fangs while Lance was talking just now.

“Keith?”

“…I can understand why you were panicking now,” Keith finally said, voice almost unnaturally steady. “This is a bit more than just coming out of the closet.”

“Yep.”

“Do you mind if I…” Keith’s eyes flicked up to where Lance’s horns were, then back down to his face. “Just… just to make sure they’re real.”

Lance nodded, squeezing his eyes shut again. “I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Keith’s hands were feather-light at first, drifting along solid horns and oddly soft wing skin and the barely-furred tail.

Lance shuddered as Keith’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingertips just barely brushing against the wing muscles that joined an inch or so down.

“So… what exactly _is_ that other half, then?” Keith asked quietly, voice still carefully steady.

“Incubus,” Lance whispered, opening his eyes again. “My breed is technically a vampire subspecies.”

Keith nodded slowly. “So when you said that… that I was brave enough to tell the entire team my secrets, while you weren’t… this is what you meant. Not coming out of the closet.”

“The bisexuality probably would have been easier to process.” Lance acknowledged.

“No kidding,” Keith almost laughed, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, stood, up, taking Lance’s hand to pull him up after him. “Let’s sit on the bed; it’s more comfortable than the floor.”

Lance followed easily enough.

“Huh,” Keith said, as one of Lance’s wings curled around him when they sat down.

“I could put them away, if you want,” Lance offered. His stomach was settling back down. He could focus in on making Keith feel better about the whole Galra thing. “I just can’t sit this close without moving it out and around like that.”

“It’s fine,” Keith said, patting the wing with something that looked like an attempt at a smile. He stopped trying after a moment, staring more directly at Lance’s eyes. “So…you said something about knowing I was half Galra, instead of just some other fraction. How…?”

Lance bit gently at his lower lip, careful of the fangs that Keith’s eyes nonetheless flicked down to for a moment. “Remember when the castle was trying to kill us?”

“Yeah.”

“I could taste it in your blood,” Lance admitted. “My sense of smell isn’t developed enough to know just like that, but the blood… yeah. I’ve tasted other hybrids before, and I knew you were half-human and half-something else. I guessed it was probably Galra, because you could open the hangar on the Balmera, but… well, I figured you either didn’t know or didn’t want anyone else to know.”

“Something you clearly have experience with.”

Lance winced. “Yeah.”

“…does anyone else know?” Keith asked. “About… you?”

“Hunk does.” Lance pressed his hands together between his thighs and rubbed them together. He needed something to fiddle with. “He’s the only reason I’ve made it this far without giving myself away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I, um, I need…” Lance dropped his face into his hands.

“Sex?” Keith asked, then held up his hands and leaned away from Lance’s dirty look. “You said incubus, and all I know on that front is that sex is necessary for survival.”

“For a full incubus, yeah. I’m only half,” Lance sat back up. “My diet is… complicated. I need a mix of… three tiers, I guess? Or, well, I only _need_ two of them. The third is optional.”

“So…”

“Blood,” Lance admitted. “I need to drink blood regularly to retain any control over my physical form. I end up glitching back and forth along the whole spectrum if I don’t drink often enough. Meat can extend the time between feedings, but I still need blood in the system or things go kaput.”

“And that’s where Hunk comes in.”

Lance nodded, silent. He was pretty sure the self-pitying guilt was evident on his face.

“…you said there were three tiers?” Kieth prompted.

“Human food, blood, and sex,” Lance said, counting off on his fingers. “I need human food to survive, blood to retain my control over my form and keep my immune system at normal, and some minor healing powers, and sex is…it’s like the ultimate extra, I guess. It gives me access to my other supernatural powers, and just overall makes me healthier. I still need to eat food and drink blood, but sex is like… dessert and protein shakes and kale in one.”

“Wait, is that why you looked so much less damaged than the rest of us when you got back from the mermaids?” Keith asked.

“Yeah.”

“…well, I guess that explains why you were so okay with not getting anything out of sex on your end,” Keith muttered.

“Hey!” Lance punched him the shoulder. “It’s not like that! I told you, if you can’t understand why I’d want to give someone pleasure without experiencing it myself, then you’re not—”

“Okay, okay!” Keith shoved his shoulder back against Lance’s. “You just… like giving oral, I guess.”

“Amongst other things, and it’s less about me enjoying the sensation and more about… you know, making people feel good,” Lance said. He took another moment before continuing. “So… you can see why I figured knowing this might make the whole Galra thing sting less, right?”

Keith made a face. “We aren’t fighting a war against _your_ species, though. We _are_ fighting a war against the Galra. I don’t actually understand why you’re so worried about everyone finding out you’re not fully human, considering how many aliens we’ve already met. Knowing that supernatural creatures are real and that you’re one of them…”

“Remember what happened right after I came back from the mermaid planet?” Lance asked.

“Uh…”

“How literally everyone except for Hunk and maybe Coran was judging me for sleeping with someone?”

Keith frowned. “But wouldn’t telling them that it’s important to your health make that easier?”

“Experience gives that a solid ‘no.’”

“I’m… missing something.” Keith admitted.

“I’m not… there are expectations. Stereotypes. Even if none of you _knew_ incubi were real, you’ve heard myths and legends and whatnot. Sexual predators in the most literal sense. Trancing people into sex, fucking someone to death, promiscuity beyond reason.” Lance ran a hand down his face. “Those stories translate to attitudes, and fairly often. I’d _never_ sleep with someone without their full enthusiastic consent, but mention the word incubus to someone, and they’re on guard. I wouldn’t drink someone’s blood without permission, but mention the word vampire, and everyone’s watching out of the corner of their eyes. And the slutshaming is… god, it’s bad enough with just the racism, but toss in being one of the most overly sexualized species in existence, and it’s almost literally hell on Earth.”

Keith was silent for a few moments. He finally asked, “The racism?”

“You’ve heard of the Sexy Latin Lover stereotype? Yeah, that.” Lance laughed a little, mirthless. “The girls get it worse. Women of color that happen to be succubi are getting sexualized even when they don’t want to be, three times over. Misogyny, fetishization due to race, _and_ the succubus thing, for those in the know. And it has its effects. The number of people that try to… to _use_ us, thinking that any concubus—”

“What?”

“Uh, the gender-neutral term for succubi and incubi. Con plus cubare, Latin for ‘to lie with.’ It’s lacking the sexism and heteronormativity of the originals. Same roots as ‘concubine,’ actually.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah, it’s… anyway, where was I?’ Lance rewound the conversation in his head. “Right, so people assume that any concubus is always down for sex with whomever, whenever, wherever. And then there are people who try to start long-lasting relationships without accepting the fact that the concubus can’t promise exclusivity for health reasons, that the concubus _won’t_ always be down for sex, and get pissed off when the concubus, despite warning them of this, starts sleeping around to keep both themselves _and_ the partner alive, or just says ‘I don’t feel like it tonight’ for once.”

“That’s… a lot.”

“Yeah. And it’s… not a fun feeling, Keith. Being seen solely as a source of good sex, hearing people say that your entire species is good for nothing else? It stings. And it’s… the team hasn’t spent time in supernatural circles, so they don’t have that degree of socialization, but the legends and myths are still there. They still have their effects.”

Lance tipped his head back and laughed a little. “And hey, there’s the whole question of whether they’ll ever realize the difference between my joke flirting and my serious flirting. I like joke flirting. It doesn’t have to go anywhere. Just make a person laugh, stroke both party’s egos a bit, and go home without having to do anything sexy. Joke flirting is fun and I do it all the time, but the second anyone knows I’m an incubus…”

“I wouldn’t be the only one Allura starts avoiding like the plague?” Keith suggested drily.

Lance flinched, but it was true. “Basically.”

Keith nodded, then reached down and took Lance’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Thanks for trusting me, I guess.”

“Does it make you feel better, at least?” Lance asked, voice small. This had gone better than it could have, but it meant nothing unless it helped Keith. “I kind of feel like I ended up making it all about me, but the whole point was to make you feel better about being half-Galra.”

“Honestly?” Keith’s head dropped down to rest against Lance’s shoulder. “Yeah. It worked. Not all the way, but… yeah.”

“Because now you know there’s someone else like you?”

“No, actually, it was because you had half a panic attack on my floor and I kind of got so invested in helping that I forgot to hate myself for a bit,” Keith said, delivery so simple and flat that he had to be telling the truth. “But yeah, knowing someone else on board is hiding a secret like this is… it does help. It does make me feel less alone. So thanks for telling me.”

“Please don’t tell anyone else.”

“I won’t.”

“Thanks.”

“So… do you want me to help or something?” Keith asked, sitting up straight and turning to Lance.

“What?” Lance blinked, utterly bewildered for a moment.

“With the blood thing? You sounded like you weren’t super happy about having to ask Hunk all the time.” Keith tilted his head. “I mean, you don’t have to say yes, but keeping this a secret seems pretty important to you, and it’ll be easier if you’ve got another source so you don’t have to put the full burden on one person and limit how much you take for their health.”

Lance gaped.

Keith waited.

“…sure?” Lance finally said. “I mean, I guess? We can talk to Hunk about it later?”

“Cool,” Keith said, nodding and turning to face forward again. “I think I’m almost getting used to all of… that.”

He gestured vaguely at Lance’s everything.

“You mean the demon attributes?”

“Yeah.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“If you want? It’s just a statement. You’ve been in your incubus form for a while now, and I’ve adjusted to it.”

Lance rolled his eyes and slumped down against Keith. “Demon form. I’m always an incubus.”

“Demon form, then.”

There was silence for a few long moments, and then Lance spoke again. “So are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I… probably.” Keith sighed. “Can’t really do anything other than wait it out and keep proving I’m a loyal paladin at this point.”

There was an awkward silence.

“…do you want a blowjob or something?”

 _“What?!”_ Keith jumped up and away and spun to face Lance. “What the hell?”

“You sound sad! I don’t want you to be sad and I’ve run out of words that might help and sex makes people feel better so I figured I might as well offer!”

“I… okay?!”

“Okay you want the blowjob or okay you understand what I mean by sex making people feel better?!”

“Both?! I guess?!” Keith still seemed a little confused and panicky.

“I guess isn’t good enough, Keith!” Lance felt embarrassment pushing red into his cheeks. “That’s not full consent, I’m not going to—”

“Yes, I’d like the blowjob!” Keith’s face was almost as red as Lance’s. “But you were just talking about how much you hate being used and this is kind of out of nowhere so I’m really confused!”

Lance buried his face in his hands. “I offered, okay, I’m not going to judge you for saying yes.”

“Oh.”

They were quiet for a few moments, the silence growing deafening.

“So… should I take my pants off, or are we going to make out first, or…?” Keith finally said, the red in his cheeks fading a little.

“I’m down for either.”

“Making out, then.” Keith looked relieved by being given the choice.

“Awesome,” Lance sighed. “Let me just… bring all this back in.”

He started retracting his wings and horns and so on, but paused when Keith spoke.

“Wait.”

Lance looked up from his hands and frowned. “What?”

Keith pursed his lips and then nodded in what was maybe determination. He stepped forward so he was standing just in front of Lance, then reached a hand up to run along one horn. “Keep them out.”

Lance brought his demon attributes back out in full, and raised one eyebrow. “New kink?”

Keith shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t know if they’re a _kink_ , but they’re not a _problem_.”

“Yeah?” Lance grinned wide, fangs on full display. “Wanna bet?”

Keith frowned. “How are you not stabbing yourself in the lip every time you close your mouth?”

“Oh. That. Um, have you ever seen a snake retract its fangs? It’s kind of like that.” Lance opened his mouth and focused on the muscles in his mouth, clicking the fangs in and out. “Technically, retracted is their default position when my mouth is closed, but some people like seeing them when I smile, so I can play around with positioning.”

 “Huh.” Keith tilted his head. “Maybe not those.”

“Yeah, I figured. Don’t want you getting stabbed in the dick.” Lance let his fangs shrink back to being mostly normal eyeteeth. “So…”

Keith took a seat on Lance’s lap, straddling him. “So.”

Lance pulled his face down for a kiss.

o.o.o.o.o

There was a knock on the door. “Keith?”

Lance froze in a sudden panic, looking up at Keith’s (sweaty, red, similarly panicky) face. Lance was sure he looked a little _more_ ridiculous, given his current position on the floor, with his mouth stretched around… yeah, but they were both very much _not_ in the mood for Shiro to enter.

“Yeah?” Keith finally said back, sounding strained as all hell. Considering he had a demon between his legs, this was almost appropriate.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!”

“I know Lance was headed down this way earlier, but he wasn’t in his room when I checked.”

“Yeah, he’s still here,” Keith said, looking down and gesturing for Lance to _say something, dammit._

Lance pulled back and coughed. “Everything’s fine, Shiro!”

Oh shit. He had that rough sex voice again. Plenty sexy in bed, of course, but _not_ helping with deflecting their CO.

“Are you sure? You sound a little—”

“We had a heart-to-heart and everything,” Lance interrupted. “There might have been a few tears. They might have been mine. Everything’s fine now, though.”

“Something’s wrong,” Shiro decided, and Lance cursed internally. “I’m coming in.”

“ _NO!_ ” Both Keith and Lance yelled, and Lance could’ve smacked himself for that reaction, but there wasn’t a lot they could do to keep Shiro out _other_ than yelling.

“…you have ten seconds to come up a good reason as to why I shouldn’t open this door, or I’m assuming you’re hiding something I really _do_ need to know about and coming in anyway.”

Lance stared up at Keith and whispered. “What do I tell him?”

“I don’t know, the truth?” Keith hissed back.

“—nine, ten.” Shiro finished counting. “Reason, now.”

“…so things escalated after that heart-to-heart, aaaaaaaand Keith just found out that I don’t have a gag reflex.”

The sound of Keith’s palm hitting his forehead was oddly loud in the pregnant silence that followed. So was the pained noise he made.

Shiro’s tone had shifted from authoritative to incredibly awkward and not-wanting-to-be-here when he spoke again. “Right. That’s…stay safe? I’ll just… come back later, then.”

Keith brought his other hand up to bury his face fully in his hands, making another pained noise as the sound of Shiro’s hurried footsteps faded.

“You said to tell him the truth.”

“Not like _that!_ ”

“Well, what was I _supposed_ to say?”

“I don’t know! Not that!”

“Do you want me to finish your blowjob or not?”

“…yes, fine, but we’re talking about this later!”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Fucking _peachy!_ ”

“Get your mouth back on my dick, jackass!”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll leave you with blue balls instead!”

“Oh my fucking _god_ , Lance, just… do the thing!”

Lance did the thing.


	4. I Have Lost the Ability to Handle This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermaths.

Shiro mostly avoided Keith and Lance’s eyes for the rest of the day. This was much easier to stomach than Allura’s refusal to even acknowledge Keith, but it was also a great distraction in many ways.

“I hate you so much,” Keith groused.

“I had to tell him _something_.”

“Did you have to say it like _that?”_

“I panicked!”

“No shit! You seemed to be doing plenty of pa—”

“Ahem.”

Lance and Keith turned simultaneously to see Allura standing a few feet away, hands on her hips.

“…hey, princess.” Lance laughed nervously, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

She eyed them both for a long moment, gaze lingering disapprovingly on Keith, then turned back to Lance. “You both have your missions. You’d best go prepare for them.”

Lance watched as she turned to leave, then leaned over to whisper in Keith’s ear.

Keith gave him a _look_ , but then shrugged. “Fine.”

“Hey, princess!” Lance called, waiting for Allura to turn around, then grabbed Keith by the arm and spun him in.

Silence fell over the hangar as Lance dipped Keith and gave him a long, slow kiss.

They stood back up to a still silent hangar. Keith’s face was red, but he had a smile on his face, more amused than anything. Lance was pretty sure he was trying not to laugh.

“What was _that?”_ Pidge demanded, high-pitched and confused.

“Well, it’s not like the princess was going to give me a good luck kiss!” Lance protested. “And Keith said it was okay!”

Hunk looked between the two, gaze calculating, and then shook his head. “Right. Keith? You wanna hop on in so we can go get those lenses?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Pidge repeated, still sounding as though she was very, very lost. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

Keith looked between Lance and Pidge for a moment, already halfway up Yellow’s ramp, and shrugged. “Lance is kind of a horny bastard. I just obliged.”

Lance felt his own jaw drop, even as the sentence processed. Then Shiro was burying his face in his hands and making a less-than-happy sound even though he didn’t even _get_ the joke in full, and Hunk was laughing his ass off, and Keith was giving Lance an awkward smile like he wasn’t sure if the joke was okay or not, but was definitely hoping that it was.

A choked noise made its way out of Lance’s throat, and then he just whispered breathlessly, sounding just as delighted and faux-offended as he meant to, “You _bitch_.”

Hunk still hadn’t stopped laughing, but he was clapping his hand on Keith’s back and pulling him up the ramp into Yellow. Lance giggled a little, still breathless because, sure, the joke was almost literally old as hell (or, well, it was as old as the usage of ‘horny’ as slang for aroused was), but Keith had made it. Keith had made a stupid pun about Lance being an incubus and it was just…

Lance grinned wide as he waved goodbye to both of his secret-keepers, and the smile only fell marginally as he dropped his gaze back to the rest of his team.

“What the actual fuck, Lance?” Pidge asked again.

“Actual fuck is a great way to put it.” Lance said, linking his hands together behind his head and ignoring the appalled look on Allura’s face. “I mean, we didn’t go that far, but—”

“ _Okay_ ,” Shiro interrupted. “Pidge, Lance, let’s get in the Blue Lion and go run that prison break. Beta Traz is waiting on us.”

Pidge was making brainbroke noises.

Lance figured he could chalk this up as a job well done.

o.o.o.o.o

“So I can assume Lance told you he’s…”

“Half-incubus, yeah.”

Hunk nodded, eyes on Yellow’s control panel. “And going by that joke in the hangar… did you do _more_ than kiss?”

“I… yeah. I mean, Shiro already knows, so I guess there’s no problem with telling you.”

Hunk shot Keith an odd look. “Why does Shiro know?”

Keith’s face colored in a little. “He… kind of almost walked in on Lance giving me a… yeah. He kept saying that he was going to come into the room since it sounded like we were hiding something important, and we couldn’t make him leave until Lance told him what we were doing.”

Hunk winced. “Ouch.”

Keith nodded, crossing his arms. “So… can I ask something?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Lance said you help out with the whole blood thing, and I can understand that you can’t do that very often without damaging your own health, which is why I’ve offered to help on that front, but… is there a major reason you don’t do the other stuff?” Keith asked. “Lance seems to treat sex pretty casually, even if he’s really stuck on the importance of consent, which I guess I understand, given everything.”

“You mean, reasons other than just a lack of attraction?”

“He implied that he can get energy out of even just making out, so… yeah. You guys are really close, so I figured it would be kind of just a natural extension of the friendship or whatever?”

Hunk leaned back in his seat, puffing out his cheeks and letting out the breath as a long sigh. “It’s complicated. I mean, we cuddle a lot? And that helps him, at least a little? But I’m legitimately not attracted to Lance sexually, and I can’t see sex as a casual thing the way he can, either, because I just wasn’t raised that way.”

“That’s fair,” Keith said.

“Yeah, and he’s never tried to pressure me on that front either, which surprised some people when I went to his house this one time. His neighbors were this group of dryads, and _wow_ were they prone to making assumptions.” Hunk laughed drily for a moment. “Add on top of that the fact that I just get this uncomfortable level of gender dysphoria whenever I even _think_ about doing anything sexual, and it’s just… not something that’s happening.”

Keith was silent for long enough that Hunk almost said something again, but did speak eventually. “Is that your way of telling me you’re trans?”

Hunk ran through the past few weeks and months in his head, and realized that no, he hadn’t ever actually come out to the rest of the team. Lance and Pidge already knew, and he’d assumed that the rest of the team had just picked up on it at some point. Finally, he shrugged and looked over at Keith. “I mean, I guess? I thought you already knew. I don’t really go out of my way to hide it.”

“Lance said something similar about his bisexuality,” Keith admitted. “Because I assumed he was there to come out of the closet.”

“Wait, really?”

“He was acting really nervous and talking about how I was brave enough to tell the team my secrets while he wasn’t, and it just… without context, it just seemed like he was about to come out to me?” Keith looked off to the side, pouting a little. “Which, I guess he technically did, but not in the way I thought he would.”

“Ah, yeah.” Hunk said, and then turned to look at Keith more fully. “And… listen, I know you might not want to hear this, but Allura _is_ going to move past this. You know, eventually.”

“She hates me.”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” Hunk said, drooping. “It makes sense from her perspective, but it’s not entirely fair to you either. Complicated situations and all that.”

“Compli—I’m a loyal paladin!”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to reconcile your friend being, even incidentally and unknowingly, associated with the group that committed a near-complete genocide against your people.” Hunk’s hands tightened on the wheel. “And no, it’s not fair to you, but it’s not as unreasonable a reaction as it seems. Genocides are… not exactly an easy thing to get over.”

Keith didn’t say anything.

“Look,” Hunk sighed. “I’m not telling you that your feelings aren’t valid. I’m just saying that hers are, too, and that it’s reasonable to expect her to need some time and space to… reconcile her feelings on the Galra Empire with you and Blade guys being allies or whatever.”

“Whatever.”

Hunk tried to stuff down the irritation in his chest. “Listen, it’s like… okay, you’re gay, right?”

“…yeah.”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never found out someone was straight after assuming they were queer, and then just been… on edge around them for a while, even if they hadn’t shown homophobic tendencies around you before, right? Just because it’s that kind of—”

“I _get_ it,” Keith snapped. “I’ll give her time and space or whatever.”

The following silence was stifling, and Hunk couldn’t help but look over in concern.

“…are you looking to see if my skin is purple?”

“No! I mean, kind of?” Hunk hunched back down. “You’re not the only half-human hybrid I’ve met. Lance has a lot of friends back home. Most of them have some level of shapeshifting. It’s not _impossible_ that you’ve got something similar.”

“I’m not magical, Hunk.”

“I mean, the Galra Druids exist. There’s _some_ kind of magic there.”

“…Let’s just watch the video that Coran gave us to help with the Weblum or whatever.”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance stayed delightedly and frustratingly vague whenever Pidge tried to dig for information, or at least an _explanation_ , on their way to Beta Traz. She quieted down once they actually got there and started running the mission, but she definitely sounded annoyed whenever she gave Lance directions or, really, spoke to him at all. It was kind of hilarious.

He liked Slav, honestly. Sure, the ferret-like alien was annoying to Shiro, but Lance found him funny on occasion and a little too sympathetically anxious the rest of the time.

Lance had also liked Laika, but… that was a situation better left unremarked upon.

(“—and I just feel like I’m taking advantage of them, you know? Hunk’s been dealing with my shit on this front since we got up here, or, well, technically even longer, and Keith… I _know_ I did it to make him feel better, but he’s been weirdly nice about it? And like, he’s offering to _help,_ with both the blood thing _and_ the sex thing, and I just… I feel like I don’t deserve all the help they’re both—”)

Yeah, that had been just another dose of awkward on the discomfort cake.

o.o.o.o.o

They fought the Robeast from the Balmera again. They won.

o.o.o.o.o

“Okay, so, quick question,” Keith said.

His hands felt warm where they rested on Lance’s waist, heavy and solid. Lance wasn’t sure if this was a psychological effect or if Keith really did just run hotter than Lance himself did, but he wasn’t complaining. It felt _nice_ to be able to straddle someone and drink from the neck. It felt right, in a base instinct sort of way.

Lance just hummed in response, mouth still attached and sucking at the holes he’d put in Keith’s skin. He couldn’t really talk right now, but yes or no questions would be fine.

“So, you said that blood lets you stay a baseline health level, but sex actually gives you access to— _ah, careful—_ to powers you don’t have otherwise, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Lance hummed, lapping a little at the wound in apology for the pain he’d caused when his fang scraped against another patch of skin by accident.

“So… do you think it would up our chances of winning if we…” Keith trailed off, and Lance could feel the heat emanating from his face.

With a bit of internal mourning for the fact that he’d be missing out on the rest of his drink, Lance healed up the wound and leaned back to look Keith in the eye. And… yep, that was a blush.

“Keith.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t sleep with me out of obligation.”

Keith’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“If you’re only considering sex with me due to the fact that you feel like you need to for my sake, or for Voltron’s sake, then I’m telling you now that I won’t do it.” Lance frowned as Keith’s gaze drifted to the side, then grabbed his friend’s face and pulled it back forward to reinitiate eye contact. “I’m _serious_ , Keith. I don’t do coerced sex.”

“I’m not just doing it out of obligation,” Keith promised. “It’s just… the thought that prompted me to consider it?”

Lance narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. “Then why _are_ you offering?”

“…I’ll be honest, you gave me the best blowjob I’ve ever had—”

“Keith, I already know you haven’t had that many.”

“ _—and_ , if you’re… amenable or whatever, then I kind of want to see how that level of skill extends to other stuff, too.” Keith was back to looking away.

Lance pulled away and folded his arms, just barely keeping his balance. “Aren’t you a virgin?”

“Wh—no!”

Lance raised one eyebrow.

“…fine, yes. How did you—”

“It’s an incubus thing,” Lance said, waving it off. It wasn’t something he was proud of knowing, but he couldn’t turn it _off_ once he was already in a sexual situation with someone, despite the invasion of privacy.

“Okay, but you have to admit that someone I trust who’s had enough experience to know what they’re doing and how to do it safely, and that doesn’t have a weird power imbalance with me, is more or less one of the best situations for losing my virginity that there _could_ be.” Keith raised both brows in that weirdly cute look that Lance privately thought he didn’t see nearly enough of.

“I don’t know…”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but don’t reject me for my own good or whatever.”

Keith’s hands were still on Lance’s waist, heavy and solid and _warm_. Lance dropped his own hands to pull them away, but paused, eyes searching over Keith’s face.

“…alright, then. I’ll… ugh, I hate saying it, but I’ll take your virginity.” Lance made a face. “It’s such an archaic concept, but—mmph.”

Aaaaand Keith was kissing him. Nice, but not really the best option for the moment. Lance pushed him away, ignoring the almost-pout.

“Keith, ground rules first.”

“Like?” Keith asked, impatient but willing to accept the fact that Lance knew what he was doing and that this was probably necessary.

“Like, this is your first time, so let’s keep it vanilla. No weird or dangerous kinks yet.” Lance considered a few other things. “Locking the door, obviously, and… do you have condoms and lube?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then I’m bottoming,” Lance decided. “For the safety of your ass.”

Keith made a face. “Uh… I know lube and condoms are important, but why don’t we need them if you’re bottoming? And don’t just say it’s an incubus thing. Please. Actually explain.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but acquiesced. “Okay, so what are the three main reasons people use condoms?”

There was a long silence, and Keith finally spoke, sounding a little unsure. “Pregnancy and STDs are the two that come to mind.”

“The third is because some people find it really uncomfortable to have semen in… awkward places.” Lance put is as delicately as he could. He held up three fingers, and then immediately put one down. “So, neither of us is capable of getting pregnant, unless…”

Keith made a face again, but shook his head. “Unless there’s something going on with the Galra side of things, no. I’m a cis dude. No risk there.”

“And even if you weren’t, I can control my own fertility and _yes_ that’s just another incubus thing _please don’t question it too much_. Second reason, STDs.” He wiggled the two remaining fingers and then put one down. “I can’t carry them long-term. Same-night sex might be a problem, if the virus or bacteria stays alive in there, but I can’t _contract_ them and my body can kill them off fairly easily, and seeing as I haven’t gotten around to doing anal with anyone since we left Earth, I can safely say that I’m STD-free. I don’t know if _you_ have any, but there wouldn’t be any danger of me contracting from you, so that’s another reason that’s irrelevant because I am what I am.”

“Humble.”

“Hush,” Lance tapped Keith’s nose with the last finger, then put it down dramatically. After a moment, he just put his hand down altogether. “As for the last reason… that’s where who’s topping starts to matter, because I doubt you want to be cleaning cum out of your ass, while I don’t have that problem since my body, uh… kind of just absorbs it.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “ _Seriously?”_

Lance shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “Yeah, so… condoms aren’t necessary if I bottom, but are kind of helpful if you are.”

Keith processed that for a long moment. “And lube?”

“I’m, uh, self-lubricating when necessary.”

Aaaaaaand cue jaw-drop.

“That’s just… _why?_ ”

“I’m an incubus, Keith! My body is literally _designed_ for sex!” Lance threw his hands up in the air, almost toppling off of Keith’s lap. “I’m, like, genetically programmed for this to be as easy and painless as possible! I can’t really control the fact that my species is _built to fuck, Keith!”_

Keith pulled him into a tight hug.

Lance froze. “Um. Hi?”

“Sorry,” Keith said, face buried in Lance’s shoulder. “I made you uncomfortable with yourself. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I forgive you,” Lance said, instead of trying to tell Keith that it wasn’t his fault or some equally empty and untrue platitude. “You didn’t mean to, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to try to do better in the future, so we’re all good.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, Lance bringing his hands up to card through Keith’s hair.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Why can’t I hear your heartbeat?”

Lance blinked in surprise for a moment, then focused on his own body. Oh. _Oh_. Okay. He kickstarted his heart back into action.

“Better?”

“Lance, did you just stop your own heart by accident?” Keith asked, pulling back to look at Lance with something like disbelief on his face.

“Uh… well, you startled me. And I don’t really _need_ my heart to beat all the time? So instead of my heart skipping a beat, it just kind of… stopped.” Lance shrugged. “It happens more in my demon form, if that helps? You shouldn’t have to worry too much about me accidentally showing up as dead on the scanners or something.”

“Lance…” Keith groaned, slumping to lean his forehead against Lance’s chest. “That’s not what I was worried about.”

“Well, you should be. If my heart stops and I’m clearly not dead, then they might start giving me the wrong treatment, or realize I’m not fully human, and _then_ where would we be?”

“Not having this conversation anymore, hopefully.”

“Hashtag rude,” Lance sniffed.

There was another long silence.

“So do you still wanna fuck or are we just putting that to the side now?”

Keith pulled back again and gave him an exasperated look. “Should I just expect sex to be your answer to every awkward silence between the two of us from now on?”

“Hey, _you_ were the one that propositioned _me_ this time!”

“I kind of assumed I’d ruined the mood, Lance.” Keith did give him a tentative smile, though.

“…you want the horns and tail out while we—”

“ _Yes._ ”

(Lance had to leave a minute later as he remembered that he hadn’t exactly gotten ready for full-out sex today, and ran to spend a few minutes in the bathroom to make sure there wouldn’t be any awkwardness below the belt.)

o.o.o.o.o

The sex may have helped Lance feel healthier and more focused, may have even helped end the battle faster, but.

But.

_But._

It didn’t save Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to stop writing fics that take place in the second half of season two; I always feel the need to get into the details of the Keith&Allura situation.
> 
> EDIT: Guys, there's over 3k words here of things that AREN'T Shiro's (entirely expected and canon, seriously) disappearance. Please don't comment on Shiro going missing when there's stuff I actually worked hard on in this chapter.


	5. Let's Make Sure Everyone Else is Handling It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance may or may not spend most of his time trying to work through an ongoing crisis of faith and quoting very old things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not Catholic, but I had a rather devout friend (who really loves Catholic characters that happen to be something decidedly at odds with the faith) look over the pertinent scenes to make sure it all made sense.
> 
> So... yeah, there's some religious commentary in this chapter.

“Hey.”

Allura looked up, stiffening a little when she saw Lance. “Ah. Lance. Hello.”

Lance kept his eyes on the bayard that Allura had been examining before he came in. He ambled closer, turning away from Allura to stare out at the holograms that she’d presumably been planning to study. After a moment, she seemed to decide that he wasn’t going to flirt with her, and turned to look at the holograms as well, putting them shoulder to shoulder.

They stood in silence for a long moment, and then Allura sighed.

“Why are you here, Lance?”

“Checking in to see if you’re holding up okay,” he answered as honestly as he could. “Most of the team isn’t doing too well at the moment. I’m trying to make sure nobody’s doing anything _too_ self-destructive.”

He could feel her eyes on him, but didn’t move to acknowledge.

“I’m fine, Lance,” she finally said. “You can go… check on Keith or something.”

“Hunk’s with him right now. They’ll shore each other up,” Lance rolled his head around a little, cracking his neck. He more felt than saw Allura flinch at the noise. “And I saw Coran trying to talk Pidge into going to bed, so they’re both fine, or as close as they can be right now.”

“So I was the last on the list.”

“I mean, I should probably check on Slav at some point. He doesn’t seem to be reacting all that well to Shiro going missing,” Lance half-joked, and heard Allura snort. He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re… you make yourself difficult to approach sometimes. And I know you don’t like me that much, especially compared to Pidge or Shiro. So I want to make sure you’re okay, but I know that you’re not going to… I don’t know. That you won’t trust that I’m working without some kind of ulterior motive to get a date or something? So… yeah, I left you for last because of that.”

Allura made a contemplative noise. “I’d assumed you would stop flirting now that you and Keith had begun courting.”

Lance sputtered out a laugh, turning to face her. “Oh my god. No, no, no, it’s not like… no, Princess. Sorry to burst your bubble, but Keith and I aren’t, uh, ‘courting.’”

She turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“From what I understood, you two have… engaged in coitus, have you not?” She made a face, clearly finding the discussion distasteful, but soldiering on.

“I mean, _yeah_ , we fucked, but that’s not exactly…” Lance took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh through puffed-out cheeks. “Sex and romance aren’t necessarily tied. You can have sex without being romantically involved, and you can have a successful romance without ever having sex. Friends with benefits is an arrangement that exists for a reason, and that’s… kind of what we’ve got going.”

“Oh?”

Lance grimaced. “He’s helping me out with an issue that I can’t handle on my own. It’s not something you need to worry about, and he’s involved in my mess of his own free will, so you don’t need to worry about that either.”

“I see,” Allura said, sounding more than a little suspicious. She turned away from him and towards the hologram again. “I am aware that, on occasion, platonic friends may engage in sexual activities for whatever reason. We had a different term for it on Altea, but ‘friends with benefits’ is not an unfamiliar concept to me. However, given that rather dramatic kiss in the hangar, I had assumed that you were announcing your intentions to court Keith in a manner meant to… push my buttons, so to speak.”

“…push your buttons? That doesn’t sound Altean or translation matrix-y.”

“Pidge taught me the idiom,” Allura admitted. “Did I use it correctly?”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, yeah, you did, I just… I mean, I did kiss him partly to just drive home the point that I wasn’t going to follow your lead on that one. But that was just as much for him as it was to you. I don’t want to make you mad, Allura. And I didn’t want to hurt you or anything, either, or give you the impression that I was planning on dating Keith, but… there are some complicated things going on with why I chose to side with him, inasmuch as sides were even chosen.”

“If you say so.”

“Sarcasm, Princess?” Lance put a hand to his chest, faking offense. “I am so _disappointed_ in you right now.”

She finally cracked a smile, small and unsteady, biting her lip and ducking her head, but… it was there. She tossed her hair and looked back up at him, saying, in a manner that was almost snooty, “You deserve it.”

“I won’t argue that,” Lance allowed. He waited a long moment, and then reached over and turned off the hologram. “Pidge isn’t the only one that _should_ be going to bed but isn’t, you know.”

“I can’t sleep,” Allura said, though she didn’t attempt to turn the hologram back on.

“Just lying there and staring the ceiling for a few hours can still help recharge you a little, though,” Lance insisted. “At least, in humans. Alteans seem similar enough that it should still apply, though.”

“I’m fine, Lance.”

“You know I can’t believe that, right?”

Allura gave him a tired look. Tired in terms of insomnia, sure, but also just a little tired of his meddling. “Please go.”

He held her stare as the seconds ticked on, arms crossed and he had to fight to keep from shrinking in on himself. Lance knew that Shiro had kept Allura from overworking herself before, and Coran did it sometimes as well. So Lance had to do _his_ part to make sure everyone was okay, too.

“Lance, you haven’t blinked in three doboshes,” Allura said, concern in her voice.

Lance blinked. “Oh. Ow. Quiznak. Ow, ow, ow, _fuck_.”

His pain was only mostly faked. He didn’t _need_ to blink, not as often as a full human did, but without that nictitating membrane from his demon form, his eyes still dried out eventually.

And he couldn’t pull out the membrane without drawing suspicion, but there weren’t a large number of situations where that would be relevant.

“Maybe I should be asking if _you’re_ alright,” Allura suggested.

“I’m cool. I’m chill. I am icy cold and a-okay,” Lance said, rubbing at his eyes as he straightened up. “Seriously, though. You need to take care of yourself. And if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for Voltron.”

“Without a Black Paladin, there _is_ no Voltron, Lance.”

Lance’s eyes fell down to the bayard in Allura’s hands, and he felt the unhappy twist in his own mouth happen on its own. “We’ll probably figure something out?”

“Shiro said he wanted Keith to lead if he died,” Allura said carefully. “And Keith has mentioned piloting the Black Lion in an emergency on a prior occasion. However, she will not lower her barrier for him.”

“Would she lower it for you?”

Allura looked up at him, expression torn. “Not while I am torn by hopes that she won’t, I think.”

That was… not entirely cryptic, but still carried some undertones that Lance didn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. “Are you going to try anyway?”

“I don’t think I have a choice.”

 “There’s always a choice. It’s just that sometimes you get to live with the consequences, and sometimes you don’t. And even then, Hell or Heaven is waiting to open its doors for you, assuming you didn’t find your way to Purgatory.”

Allura frowned, more out of confusion than out of any disapproval. “Human religion, again?”

“One of them,” Lance said, nodding. “Mine, at least. Definitely not Hunk’s. Not sure about the others, but I think Keith is probably either atheist or agnostic.”

“So many cultures…” Allura sighed, leaning forward to rest against the railing. “And if this war ever ends, I should like to visit your planet, but…”

Lance shrugged. “You can learn the basics and then pick things up as you go. You have us to rely on, don’t you?”

“I suppose I do.”

Lance reached out hesitantly and patted Allura’s shoulder. She didn’t move to get him off, so he rested his hand there and squeezed. “Allura?”

“Mm?”

“Do Alteans believe in souls?”

Allura hummed for a moment before answering. “In some fashion. I suppose it depends on how you define it. It’s a rather complex word, at least in Altean. It’s not really something anyone can agree on a definition for.”

“Yeah. Same.”

“For what it’s worth, I do believe that all sapient species have them, including the Lions.” Allura turned to give him a curious look. “Why do you ask?”

_Because a lot of people would say that I’m either soulless or damned even without all my sinning._

“Just… wondering how religious people might react to alien species when they show up. Might try to convert you. Might try to call for your deaths.” Lance shrugged. “Granted, a lot of that would be people hiding behind religion as an excuse for bigotry. Plenty of religious people are perfectly nice and open-minded, like my family, but you’ve also got people who just use it as a way to write off their prejudices as reasonable.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” was all Allura said.

They stayed for a few more moments, and then Lance hedged his bets and said, “Need a hug?”

She slid a look his way, sideways and just a little judging. That was probably fair. Lance gave her an apologetic smile and withdrew his hand from her shoulder, ready to make his excuses and leave, and maybe tell Coran where Allura was so _someone_ could get her to go to bed.

But then she sighed and grabbed his hand. “No. Wait.”

Lance didn’t say anything, just did as she’d asked and waited.

It took a long moment for her to come to her decision, but she did turn to face him fully and hold her hands out to her sides a little. The request was silent, but there.

“You know I won’t be offended if you say no, right? You’re allowed to say ‘no’ to a _hug_ , Princess.”

“Don’t make me change my mind, Lance.”

He grinned and stepped forward, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, squeezing tight. She hesitantly wrapped her own arms around his torso, high enough that it wouldn’t be weird. For a long moment, they just stood there.

“I’m taller than you,” Lance said gleefully.

“Only because I choose to remain this size.”

“And here I was, thinking we were having a moment.”

“You chose to break it,” Allura reminded him.

“Yeah, well,” he pressed his cheek to her temple; the difference was only a scant few inches, but it was something easy and inoffensive to poke fun at. “I figured you’d want to keep the tender moments to a minimum.”

She pulled away at that, wrinkling her nose and staring him down. “Why?”

“Other than the whole warrior Princess vibe? Uh… I figured if we’re heading towards actual friendship after the disaster that was my joke flirting, it was best to do it in baby steps.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Joke flirting?” Allura asked, one eyebrow rising in doubt.

“Hey, if I were flirting for real, then I’d be doing it with people who might reciprocate, and I’d be doing it _well_.”

“I feel like you’re just using this as an excuse to pretend that your flirting wasn’t just inept,” Allura said.

“Uh, excuse you, I flirted plenty successfully back on Earth, and in many different ways!” Lance leaned against the control panel. “Seriously, the number of people I got interested by quoting a bit of Shakespeare their way… nobody really goes gaga over it like some people insist, but it usually gets a conversation going.”

Allura stared blankly. “Shakespeare?”

“A really famous playwright from a few centuries ago. I could recite one of his sonnets for you, if you’re curious. Or one of the monologues? I know more than a few of those.” Lance hopped up onto the railing and swung his legs back and forth. “Or I could just quote a few random lines.”

“Like?”

“I’m fond of ‘My lord, what fools these mortals be!’ It’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is just one of the better comedies, in my opinion, but I might be biased because of the magic aspects. ‘To be or not to be, that is the question,’ is actually from the opening to a much longer monologue. ‘If music be the food of love, play on,’ is pretty popular. Um… I keep wanting to quote the full sections instead of just single lines.” Lance bit his lip and considered for a moment. “Then again, you’re probably not getting the full weight of it, since translating poetic language through a computer program has really mixed results.”

“I’m not feeling particularly impressed, no,” Allura said, shaking her head.

“Ah, the lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Lance gave a wide smile, eyebrows bouncing as Allura snorted. “Aw, come on, that one’s a classic!”

“I don’t know your references, Lance.”

“So? I could totally recite for you.”

“Go ahead, then. Show me what this famous playwright did, if you can.”

Lance considered that for a moment. “You want a romantic sonnet or a dramatic monologue?”

“I don’t know what a sonnet is, Lance.”

“A poetry format.”

Allura folded her arms and quirked one eyebrow. “Let’s see.”

Lance grinned. “Your wish is my command, milady.”

He focused for a moment to make sure he could remember it, but… Well. Sonnet 18, man. It was hard to forget.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” He started, tucking his hands behind his back and pacing around Allura. He went back to gesturing wildly again partway through, because there was only so much he could say of the comedies and sonnets before he started moving again. Shakespeare was grand and dramatic; subdued acting had its place, of course, but not for this piece.

He ended with a flourish in front of Allura, taking her hand in his and bowing low to kiss it before he delivered the final rhyming couplet.

“So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

He grinned up at her, still leaning over in his fancy bow, and her eyebrow crept higher.

“I’m guessing it didn’t translate well. Or at least it didn’t scan?”

“You very much enjoy these romantic pieces, don’t you?”

“I could go for a tragedy or a history, if you want.”

She made a face. “No, I don’t think I’m in the mood for something of the sort.”

Lance shrugged and comes closer, slipping an arm around Allura’s waist and gesturing grandly at the star-laden windows. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!”

“Lance, what are you—?”

He pulled away and took her hands in his, matching gazes. She still looked a little nonplussed. “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she.”

She stayed there, watching him wax eloquent with the tired and much-loved words of the bard himself. Lance was pretty sure that she was only impressed with the fact that he’d memorized the piece, rather than by the poetry of the thing itself. Which sucked, because Shakespearean monologues kicked _ass_.

“You are a very strange person, Lance.”

“Is that meant to be an insult?”

“An observation,” Allura said, finally pulling her hands away from his. “Though I will say that I’m not quite in the mood for your recitations anymore.”

“Let me walk you back to your room, then.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Why?”

“Because I don’t trust that you’ll go to bed unless someone makes you go,” Lance said, as honestly as he could. “Also, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but mostly I just want to make sure you actually go to sleep.”

“I can handle myself, Lance.”

He just held out his arm, elbow in her direction, and grinned.

She raised an eyebrow. “And what am I meant to do with that?”

Lance sidled up to her, took her hand, and slipped it through the crook of his arm. “And that’s how a true gentleman walks a ladyfriend home.”

“A ladyfriend.”

“Or any woman who deigns to allow him to do so.”

Allura sighed and shook her head. “If I let you walk me to my room, will you leave me alone for the rest of the night?”

“I’m not going to invade your room, Princess. That would be rude.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

“Then lead on, Macduff,” Lance said, laughing just a little.

“Another quote?”

“Misquote, actually. The original was ‘lay on,’ and meant something _totally_ different. See, the original…”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance sat behind Keith, arms wrapped around him, chin resting on a pale shoulder clad in black fabric. They were chest to back, with Lance’s legs spread wide, but it wasn’t sexual, not this time.

“I’m not going to fall apart just because Shiro isn’t here, you know.”

Lance said nothing, just tightened his grip a little.

“I’m serious. I’m not that… fragile or whatever.”

“Last time you lost Shiro to an unknown force, you punched Iverson in the face and got kicked out of the Garrison,” Lance pointed out, voice glum.

“I’ve grown up a little since then, Lance.”

He had to laugh at that. Keith wasn’t entirely wrong, no.

They sat in silence a bit longer, and Lance closed his eyes. It didn’t mean much, with how dim the lights were in here, but it helped him focus. He was already shirtless, so he didn’t need to do anything other than shift.

“Lance, what are you doing?”

“It… sometimes it helps my little siblings feel safe,” Lance said, curling his wings around until they formed a protective wall between the two of them and the rest of the world. Keith looked around, or at least it felt like he did. Lance couldn’t see his face or anything, but he wasn’t tensing up, so Lance chalked it up as a win.

“Do you do this with Hunk?”

“Sometimes. When his panic attacks get bad, or my demon side starts feeling… possessive.”

“What kind of possessive? Like, will you fight a person for just trying to initiate a handshake with the person you’re possessive of? Or something different?”

“Instincts aren’t that dramatic, Keith. Have you been reading weird porn or something?”

Lance got an elbow to the gut for his troubles.

“Ow,” he whined. “Mean.”

“You were a dick.”

“Hashtag rude.”

“Lance, if you don’t want to answer the question, please just say so.” Keith’s head turned, his voice echoing strangely off the wings. “Don’t do the whole… deflection thing.”

“I wasn’t deflecting. I was trying to gently point out that your assumptions were offending me.”

“…oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

Keith’s face warmed noticeably, and Lance sighed, turning his face to press a kiss to Keith’s neck. “All is forgiven. And to answer your question, it’s just some occasional antsiness. I get jittery if I don’t see someone I consider mine for too long, and sometimes I just need to hold onto someone that’s important to me for a few hours and know that they’re _there_ , and okay, and still care right back.”

“That seems a bit counterintuitive for an incubus,” Keith said after a long moment. “Evolutionarily.”

“It’s the vampire side. Very fond of collecting shiny trinkets, and clever, pretty humans were considered the shiniest trinkets of all,” Lance said, though he made a face, finally opening up his eyes again. “Which is a common way to explain it, but honestly, I’m not a fan. It makes people sound like property. They aren’t. Nobody _belongs_ to me. They’re just. Important. To me. Mine in a more metaphorical sense.”

“I believe you,” Keith said, and they fell back into a companionable silence.

Lance started playing with Keith’s shirt, folding and unfolding tiny creases across the abdomen. Keith needed more clothing. Lance could probably take care of that, if he got some measurements first.

“Can you… talk? Or something?” Keith asked, shifting uncomfortably. “There’s too many things in my head right now.”

“Do you need to understand what I’m saying?” Lance asked.

“Uh… no? I just need to hear a voice I trust right now.”

Lance nodded, considering. He almost went with Shakespeare again, but… the situation being what it was, and how long it had been since he really tried to focus on… yeah. Okay. He didn’t think Keith would mind.

_“Dios te salve, Maria. Llena eres de gracia: El Seńor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amén.”_

Lance let the words hang heavy in the air for a moment, something twisting in his gut as he spoke and even more after he finished. Keith didn’t say anything. Lance decided to keep going with another.

_“Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino. Hágase tu voluntad en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy nuestro pan de cada día. Perdona nuestras ofensas, como también nosotros perdonamos a los que nos ofenden. No nos dejes caer en tentación y líbranos del mal. Amén.”_

“Are you praying?” Keith asked, after Lance had stayed silent for long enough that it was clear he was, for the moment, finished, and readying for the next one.

“Yeah.”

“In Spanish?”

“Yeah.”

Keith nodded. “Why?”

Lance shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I’m Catholic.”

Keith was silent again for several long moments. “ _How?”_

“Family’s Catholic, so I grew up with it.”

“Lance, I’m pretty sure you know that’s not what I mean.”

Lance pulled back, taking his chin off of Keith’s shoulder and just pressing the side of his face against Keith’s back. “It’s complicated. I’m not… it’s not as simple as just saying that I believe in God, not when I’m part demon.”

Keith’s hands fell to cover Lance’s on his stomach, squeezing.

“My abuela, she… she tries to be understanding. She’s fully human, and pretty devout, and was kinda confused when my parents got together. But she tries to be open-minded. The first time I asked her if I was going to hell because I was part demon, or if I was as soulless as Adelaida from the next block over said, she… I must have been four years old or something. But my abuela told me that if I could think and believe, then I had a soul. And that if I had a soul, then I could believe in God, and that He would forgive me for my sins if they were to keep myself alive and healthy. That even if I drank blood, that I would… that I wasn’t hurting anyone to do it. That my family was full of good people who just happened to come from some places that the Bible never thought to mention, and that even if the Holy Water stung when it touched me, and burned the full-blooded concubi in my family, it was like an allergy, and didn’t mean I was damned from birth.”

Lance took a deep breath, and felt Keith squeeze his hands again. He squeezed back.

“Did you believe her?” Keith asked quietly.

“Back then? Yeah. Nowadays… I don’t know. I sleep around out of wedlock for my health, but I don’t _need_ it the way I need blood, do I? And I pray for forgiveness whenever I do it, but I know I’ll do it again in the future, because I may survive without it, but I can’t thrive. And I ask if that’s really enough, and… I’m still not convinced I wasn’t just damned from birth.”

“You seem like a pretty good person to me, Lance. You’re risking your life to save the universe. I’m pretty sure that outweighs a little fooling around,” Keith said.

“Keith, I’m not nearly as concerned about the blood and sex as I am about just… being. What I am.”

“But—”

“Corinthians 10:21. ‘You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons; you cannot partake of the table of the Lord and the table of demons,’” Lance said.

“And you don’t think that the fact that you believe and pray and worship or whatever proves you’re not… damned or whatever?”

“Yeah, about that… ‘You believe that God is one You do well; the demons also believe, and shudder,’” Lance sighed. “That one’s James 2:19.”

“Lance…”

“I’m stung by holy water, Keith. That’s… strong evidence,” Lance sighed again, pressing his face against Keith’s back. “Don’t worry about it. This is my problem to deal with. My internal conflict. It’s something I’ve been struggling with for years, and… well, I’ll figure it out someday. No need to rush it.”

Keith turned around, finally, moving to sit sideways between Lance’s legs and looping one arm around Lance’s shoulder. The other hand came up, index finger hovering an inch from Lance’s nose.

“Damned or not, you’re a _good person_. Remember that, okay?”

Lance smiled softly and pressed his face into Keith’s neck, leaving a single kiss before he just closed his eyes and cuddled closer. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“How is it that whenever I try to come comfort your furry ass about something, we end up talking about _my_ problems instead?” Lance asked, voice a little muffled.

“I internalize my problems and you don’t mind talking about yours since you know it’ll help distract me from mine?” Keith suggested. “Which reminds me, you weren’t supposed to be here to talk me through my problems. You’re here for a dinner supplement.”

“Keeeeith.”

“Nope. Drink. Now.” Keith turned back away from Lance again, tugging off his shirt. He tossed it off to the side and tilted his head to the side, leaning back until his back was flush with Lance’s chest again. “C’mon, Lance. We both know you need this.”

“You barely ate today. You’re probably hypoglycemic. If I drink now, you’ll end up all woozy,” Lance said, making a face.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fucking drink.”

“Go talk to Hunk or Coran after I do so you can eat properly.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sa— _fine_.”

Lance smiled to himself, glad that he’d managed to get Keith to agree to at least one form of self-care, and then focused on the pale expanse of skin beneath his nose. Hm. “Thanks for taking your shirt off this time.”

“I didn’t want to get another lecture on the stretching and destruction of shirt necklines.”

“They’re hard to fix!”

“ _Drink, asshole_.”

Lance grew out his fangs and sank his teeth in. He pulled up and out after a moment, and then started sucking.

Keith was… remarkably calm and pliant. If Lance tilted his head just the tiniest bit, he could see Keith’s face. There wasn’t a blush there, or any other sign of arousal, but there was a slightly dopey little smile on his face. He even had half-lidded eyes and _wow_ , those muscles were definitely more relaxed than usual.

Lance finished up on time, doing the usual lick-and-heal routine before he leaned away. “So, you look like you were enjoying yourself.”

Keith turned to look at him and tilted his head. “Hm?”

“You’re not getting off on me biting you, but you’re, like, enjoying it.”

Keith looked down at his crotch for a moment, as though checking to make sure that Lance was telling the truth. He shrugged and looked back up at Lance. “It’s relaxing.”

“…me sticking my fangs in your neck and drinking vital bodily fluids is _relaxing_ ,” Lance said, his voice chock full of disbelief.

“I don’t know. Maybe? It might be the chemicals in your saliva that do the numbing? Or maybe I’m just starting to associate the biting with the sex that happens afterwards and it’s some Pavlovian thing.” Keith shrugged.

“We’ve had sex, like, three times, Keith. That’s not a lot.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “And we’ve done other stuff the other times. I don’t know. I’m not sure why it’s calming to me. It just is, and not even every time.”

“Maybe it’s a Galra thing,” Lance suggested, though his mind was spinning. This was bad. Possibly. It _could_ be bad. “Like, uh, sometimes cats bite each other’s necks to induce calmness, during sex. Also kittenhood. That’s kinda different from this, though, since it’s in a different spot and more about the continued pressure than anything actually breaking the skin, and sucking isn’t involved. Whatever. You’re not, um… getting addicted to the feeling or anything, right?”

“What?”

“There are stories, lots of them, about humans who got addicted to vampire bites.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck, well aware of the fact that he was about to start rambling, but not entirely sure how to stop it. “They started feeding vampires as often as they could to get some kind of high? I don’t know if they were reacting to a chemical like you suggested, or liked the feeling of being low on blood, or just needed an excuse to self-harm. You can’t really _overdose_ on being bitten, but you can die of blood loss. So I guess I just want to know if you think this is something we’ll need to stop doing, in case it _is_ turning into an addiction, even on just a psychological level instead of a physical dependency.”

Keith gave him a long, measured look. “I trust you, Lance. If I ask for you to drink more than usual and there isn’t an obvious reason to explain it, like you being starving or injured, then I trust you to not take advantage of that.”

Lance felt a blush crawl up his cheeks. “Oh. That’s. Um. Thanks?”

Keith rolled his eyes and awkwardly reached up to muss Lance’s hair. “Stop being surprised when I say I trust you, jackass.”

“Hey! Watch it! Watch the hair!” Lance batted away Keith’s hand, wings rustling around them as he moved.

“You’re not even _going_ anywhere except maybe back to your room,” Keith said. “And even that’s kind of irrelevant since your hair ends up mussed every time we do anything to round out your diet.”

“Round out my diet? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Lance asked mildly.

Keith elbowed him. “You’re less than three months older than me. Shut up.”

“Alright, alright…” Lance laughed. He sobered up quickly, though. “Um… about that.”

“Yeah?” Keith’s expression was measured and just a little concerned. “Something wrong?”

“I’m not really in the mood tonight,” Lance admitted. A part of him was still waiting for the rejection that the more rational part of him insisted wouldn’t happen this time, but… well, experience was a harsh teacher. “Can we not?”

Keith kept watching for a long moment, searching Lance’s expression for a long moment, and then shrugged. “Sure. Do you want to cuddle or something instead, or just go back to your room?”

Something in Lance’s chest relaxed at that. He’d known, but actually having it happen was just… reaffirming. He smiled. “Cuddling, definitely.”

“Might wanna drop the wings for a bit, then,” Keith said, voice mild. He ran a hand along one of them, drawing a shiver from Lance. “I like them and all, but they’re going to get crushed, dude.”

“Blegh, rude,” Lance complained, but obligingly withdrew his wings and folded them back into nothingness, drawing the rest of his demonic attributes back down to standby in the process. “Now cuddle me, bitch.”

“Right,” Keith said, utterly unimpressed. He leaned over to the side until his weight took both of them down in a huffy little pile. “Congrats, you’ve got a cuddle buddy.”

“Hunk’s better at it,” Lance said as he rearranged himself into a more comfortable position and pulled up the blanket.

“Of course he’s better at it. He’s _Hunk_ ,” Keith said like it was ridiculous to even consider otherwise.

“Glad we’re in agreement.” Lance tangled their legs together and draped an arm over Keith’s side, finding a hand and lacing their fingers together. He pressed his nose to the back of Keith’s neck and inhaled.

“Your nose is cold.”

“Shut up.”

“So…” Keith said, and Lance tilted his head a bit to pay attention more closely. “I know neither of us are straight, but this is somehow the absolute gayest thing I’ve done.”

“Gayer than the sex?” Lance asked.

“Gayer than the sex,” Keith confirmed.

“Damn,” Lance laughed. “My cuddling skills must be top notch.”

“It’s kind of disgusting how sweet this is,” Keith said. “We aren’t even dating, _and yet_.”

“And yet,” Lance agreed, nodding. “Allura thought we were, though, did you know?”

“What did you tell her?”

“That we _are_ having sexual encounters with each other, but not dating. Apparently Alteans had friends with benefits arrangements too? But she thought we were doing something more serious because of the kiss in the hangar,” Lance explained. “And then I told her that it was to help me out with an issue I couldn’t handle on my own, that everyone involved was doing so of their own free will, and that she didn’t need to worry about it.”

“Sounds about right,” Keith mused. “Though I’d be agreeing to the sex even if it wasn’t a health thing for you.”

“If you were only—”

“I know, Lance,” Keith said, squeezing his hand. “Although, in Allura’s defense—”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Hush, you. In her defense, we do act a bit like we’re dating,” Keith pointed out.

“I’m not saying it’s an unreasonable assumption. It’s just, you know, _not true_.”

“Thank god. I can’t imagine a romance in space. It sounds like a disaster in the making,” Keith pulled a face that Lance could just barely see from this angle.

“I mean, probably not as bad as you’re thinking, but…” Lance shrugged. “Someone probably _could_ make it work, if they really wanted to.”

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m bad at signals, so yours are coming across as mixed. Please tell me if this is your way of awkwardly suggesting we date or not.”

Lance stifled a laugh. “Friends with benefits, no dating. It would be complicated and I’m not in the mood to date _anyone_ right now.”

“Oh, okay. Good. I was getting worried.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand again. “On that note, though, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Teach me how to give a blowjob sometime?”

“Okay, Keith, we can do that next time,” Lance almost laughed.

“Awesome.”

Lance hummed in amusement. “Just two dudes being guys. Two guys being dudes. Bros. Totally straight blowjobs. No homo.”

“Lance.”

“Full bi!”

“I fucking hate you.”

“You’ll hate me more in the morning, when I make you eat to replace all that blood and potential hypoglycemia. Don’t think I missed the fact that you conned me into sleepy-times instead of going to eat.”

“Fuck off, Lance.”

“No, I want my damn cuddles.”


	6. I... Might Need Someone Else to Handle This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance... Lance, you fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for severe injuries and refusal to seek proper medical help.

Lance had a tendency to zone out.

Now, this wasn’t news to anyone. He wasn’t the most focused person on the team, not always, not with Pidge’s habit of hyperfocusing to the point of forgetting to eat or sleep, or Keith’s tendency to lose track of time when fighting the Gladiator, or Allura’s single-minded drive to defeat the empire. Lance was pretty good about keeping his focus when it counted, actually. When he was training, or shooting, or doing something that _really_ needed his attention, he could focus.

But if one put him in the kitchen on an early morning with permission to not do anything for a while, and took away potential distractions like he’d had on Earth, he just… zoned out. Hunk was there to cook, sure, but it was a quiet cooking day, not a conversational one. Lance was there to keep him company, whether he spoke or not, but without a dialogue, it was easy to lose focus and just… zone out.

“Holy shit.”

Lance blinked and moved back into awareness, turning to see Pidge. “¿Qué?”

“You didn’t blink for like… five straight minutes. I was timing you. It was creepy,” Pidge took a few steps closer, looking at him with ill-disguised awe and horror. “I was half-convinced you weren’t even _breathing_. Like, you didn’t move. At _all_. You were like a statue.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Lance rolled his eyes and discreetly pressed fingers to his wrist to see if he’d accidentally let his heart stop again. It looked like he hadn’t? But it may have just jolted back into action when Pidge startled him. “I wasn’t moving and you were creeped out.”

“Total Twilight Zone moment,” Pidge agreed, hopping up onto a high stool next to Lance’s. “Do you, like, practice? Is that a thing? Would you be able to hide from a T-Rex indefinitely?”

“Pidge, what the fuck.”

“I’m just asking!” She protested.

“And making him really uncomfortable,” Hunk pointed out, turning around with a bowl in his arms, one hand stirring. He gave Pidge a Look, raised eyebrow and everything.

“But…” Pidge started to protest, then took a closer look at Lance. He gave her a smile, but knew that it probably didn’t look all that believable. She subsided. “Oh.”

“Pidge,” Hunk said, a warning in his tone.

“Sorry, Lance,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking about how it could be… offensive.”

“Just don’t let it happen again, shortstack,” Lance said, reaching over and ruffling her hair. It wasn’t like she had enough info to know _why_ he was so bothered by it. “Why’re you here, though?”

“It was super quiet in the hangars and it was bothering me,” Pidge said, hopping up onto a stool and setting her laptop on the island. “So I decided to come work down here and maybe bounce ideas off of Hunk.”

“Today’s a quiet cooking day,” Hunk said, and that was that.

Pidge shrugged and opened her laptop, starting in on her coding again.

Lance watched her, taking in the details. Her skin was dry, her hair a little greasier than reasonable for regular showers, and the bags under her eyes weren’t exactly pretty either. Pidge hadn’t been taking care of herself, not well enough. She had, no doubt, been spending so much time coding and looking for Shiro that she’d let her own health fall to the wayside.

Lance couldn’t bully Pidge into bed (not at this hour), or into the shower (not with the invasion of privacy, or the level of gender dysphoria that his presence could trigger), or into starting a skincare regimen like his own (not without getting himself laughed at). He couldn’t address many parts of the problem. He could still do something, though.

Lance pulled out his phone, near full battery, now that Hunk had figured out how to convert the Castle’s power to something that would work with their chargers. He found a decent song, put it on, and turned up the music. Then he reached over and closed Pidge’s laptop for her, sliding it away from her and holding it out of her reach.

“Wh—Lance!”

“You’ve been working too much,” he said as bluntly as he could. “Admirable, sure, but your health is gonna go kaput soon. Just straight down the drain. Blam. The stress is gonna kill you.”

Pidge crossed her arms and huffed, eyes twitching just a little. “And what exactly are you suggesting I do instead? I’m not going to sleep.” _I can’t, not now, not with this situation_.

“Stress release,” Lance said simply, putting the laptop aside. He didn’t have to look back to know that Hunk had picked it up not a second later and taken it away to someplace Pidge couldn’t reach it. He stood up. “Come on.”

Pidge hunkered down and glared at him, baleful. “And do what?”

Lance rolled his eyes and reached over to tuck his hands under her armpits and pick her up like he did his little siblings back home. She squawked and flailed, but little enough that Lance knew she wasn’t _truly_ bothered. “Dance time, let’s go.”

“Dancing?” Pidge glared at him, crossing her arms again; it looked a little silly, given that her legs were still swinging back and forth a few feet above the ground. “I don’t dance, Lance.”

“So we’ll keep it simple,” Lance said, shrugging. “Here, stand on my feet.”

“This is condescending,” Pidge muttered, but didn’t move to stop him at all. “I feel like a little kid again.”

“Well, once you get a feel for the music, I can set you back on the floor,” Lance said magnanimously. “Until then, though…”

He started moving.

Unsurprisingly, Pidge didn’t complain more than perfunctorily, and even that was clearly half-hearted. It only took half a song for her to relax and wrap her arms around his torso, burying her face against his chest.

_There we go._

“I miss him,” she whispered after a long moment.

“I know, kiddo.” Lance ran a hand through her hair. He didn’t bother to ask which ‘him,’ she was referring to, because it didn’t really matter right now. Shiro, Matt, her dad… they were all holes in Pidge’s heart that needed filling. “We’ll get him back, promise.”

“You can’t know that.”

Lance shrugged. “Things have worked out okay so far, haven’t they?”

“I guess.”

“Here,” he said, reaching over for his phone and scrolling through until he found a decent song. “I’m gonna teach you how to waltz.”

“Ew,” she made a face. “Why?”

“What if Voltron has to do diplomatic shit and we need to demonstrate some Earth dances? Better if you already know something, right?” Lance gave her a smile, trying to push through the silent offer of a distraction from the anxiety and paranoia that had suffused the castle recently.

“I don’t think that’s really a significant possibility.”

“So?” Lance said, finally finding the song he’d been searching for. “C’mon, gimme your hands and follow my lead. It’s a three-count, okay? So you’re going to step out with one foot on the first beat, step up to it with your other foot on the second, and then step in the spot for the third. Follow my lead for which way to step, okay?”

Pidge did as asked, though she wasn’t particularly _good_ at it. She fumbled a lot, tripping over her own feet and cursing under her breath.

“Look up,” Lance said after another pause where Pidge was cursing out the entire realm of dance in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m serious. Look up at me instead of at your feet. It helps a lot of people to do that. We can switch to step out, step out, meet, instead of step out, meet, pause, if you want.”

Pidge gave him a considering look. “Fine. Let’s try that.”

She was better at this one, if only marginally. Lance grinned down at her as she grew increasingly frustrated again.

“I hate this.”

“Aw, don’t say that.”

“I want to kick this dance’s ass for being so hard.”

“Do it. Kick its ass. Beat the dance. Beat it like it owes you money.”

Pidge made a face. “Isn’t that a euphemism for masturbation?”

“I mean, probably.” Lance shrugged, picking her up and spinning her for a moment. She squealed in mock outrage. He continued talking once he’d set her down again. “Seems like everything is a euphemism for sex or masturbation these days. Or any days. Human history is just one long dictionary of sexual references.”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Pidge said.

“And hey, now that you’re distracted by the masturbation talk, you’re not tripping over yourself anymore!”

It was at that moment that Pidge tripped over herself again. She gave Lance the stink-eye, and he winced.

“Right. We’ll work on it.”

Hunk rapped on the table with his knuckles, catching their attention. “I’m done cooking for now. It’s just a matter of waiting for now, so who’s in the mood to help me clean up?”

“Fiiiiiiiiiine,” Lance whined, letting go of Pidge and stepping away. “But you’re going to swing with me while we wait, got that?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hunk promised.

“Wait,” Pidge said, readjusting her glasses and squinting at them both even as she and Lance made their way over to the counter covered in dirtied dishware. “Hunk knows how to dance?”

“Lance would get fidgety at the Garrison sometimes. Dancing was safer than tumbling—”

“They didn’t have the right equipment!” Lance protested.

“—and sometimes Lance preferred to have a partner while dancing. I was the person he usually went to,” Hunk finished, as though Lance hadn’t made a _very valid point_ regarding the Garrison’s lack of proper safety equipment for advanced tumbling practice.

“So Lance just liked teaching people how to dance at the Garirson?” Pidge said, disbelief coloring her tone. “How the _hell_ did I not notice?”

“You were doing your whole antisocial thing back then,” Lance said. “Since you didn’t want anyone to get close enough to figure out who you were.”

“I, well, _yeah_ , but—”

“It’s not a big deal, short shit,” Lance said. He’d have ruffled her hair again if it weren’t for his hands being covered in something sticky that might have been space molasses. “You can learn now!”

“Joy,” she deadpanned.

Lance laughed, and then focused back in on finishing with the washing up. He’d only just wiped his hands dry when a large hand took his and spun him away from the counter.

“Pidge, can you hit up the Electro Swing playlist for me?” Lance asked, grinning and getting into position.

“We should maybe take this out into the hall,” Hunk said. “Less things to bump into.”

“You’re not worried about missing the cooking timer?”

“I’ve get backups on my person,” Hunk confirmed.

Pidge found the playlist just as they made it out into the hall.

“ _Say what you say or do what you do, why don’t you be my lover?”_

Lance let Hunk take the lead, not minding in the slightest. Hunk was taller and had more muscle for the lifts, anyway, and Lance preferred taking whichever role got the flashiest moves. Especially when he got to put his leg up in the air. That was fun.

“Pidge, put on ‘Delight’ after this! We’ve actually got a choreography to that one!” Lance called.

“Who’s it by?”

“Jamie Berry and Octavia Rose!”

There were footsteps at the end of the hall just as the song ended, and Lance glanced over at Allura and Coran with a grin as he and Hunk entered the sweetheart position as their starting pose.

“Hey, Princess! Hey, Coran!”

“Are you… dancing?” Allura asked slowly as the two Alteans came closer.

“Yep!” Lance said, swinging out from Hunk after a few steps, then swinging back in, though this time facing each other as they danced around the hallway. “Wanna join in? I could teach you.”

“Maybe later,” Allura compromised. “You seem to be—”

“Whoo!” Lance hollered as Hunk swung him around in a move that would have likely been dangerous in the crowded kitchen.

“—having fun,” Allura finished. “Is this a common form of dance for humans?”

“Ish,” Pidge said. “It’s not the sort of thing you see at nightclubs or with street performers, but it’s reasonably common? Like, you’re not going to have much trouble trying to find a swing dance class in any random city in the country we lived in, for instance.”

“Pidge, next up ‘Catgroove’ and then ‘Chambermaid Swing,’ both by Parov Stellar,” Lance called out as the song started nearing its end. “Hunk, you good for two more?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “Unless, of course, someone else wants to step in?”

Lance looked over at Coran and Allura. “Any takers?”

“Maybe once I have a better idea of how you do this sort of movement,” Coran said. “It certainly seems interesting!”

A few songs passed like that, with Pidge picking the next one as Lance asked, watching with the Alteans as he and Hunk danced. They seemed to be appropriately impressed when Lance and Hunk did lifts or anything schmancy, or the few times when Lance anchored his foot by Hunk’s instep and lifted his other straight up in a split that he was _more_ than a little proud of (and then tilted over backwards with Hunk’s help, until the toes nearer his head were barely a foot off the ground). Lance was pretty sure this was the closest they’d all come to a proper day off since Shiro had gone missing. Then again…

“Has anyone seen Keith?” He asked.

“Visiting the Blade of Marmora,” Coran answered. “I believe he expressed some interest in gaining information on Galra biology in case his own began to reflect that side of his heritage, rather than remaining solely human.”

“Booooo,” Lance whined, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we’ll have another dance party when he gets back.”

A high-pitched beeping erupted from Hunk’s pocket. He pulled out his phone and turned the alarm off. “And that’s my cue to go. Gotta get dinner out of the oven. It’ll be ready to serve in half an hour.”

Lance turned to the other three as Hunk left, smiling with all his teeth and bowing low as he extended one hand in their general direction. “Anyone up for a lesson?”

Unsurprisingly, Coran was the first to take him up on that offer.

o.o.o.o.o

“Your hands are _shaking_ , Lance.”

“Sorry,” Lance gasped out, slumping against Hunk on the bed and trying to ignore the way his skin felt like it was about to crawl off. “Is the door—”

“Yes, yes, you can shift.”

Lance whined, doing just that, and Hunk sucked in a sharp breath as he saw the deep gash in one wing. Lance buried his face in Hunk’s neck and whimpered. He knew it wasn’t pretty; it hurt too much to be anything clean.

“Drink, drink, oh my god, Lance, just drink."Hunk pulled his shirt off and lifted Lance onto his lap. He tilted his neck to the side. “I know the carotid is fastest, just hurry up and— _ah!_ ”

Lance could feel tears running on his face, from a mix of pain and guilt as he sank his fangs into Hunk’s neck and drank.

“Take more than usual this time. I can deal with feeling a little more cold than usual for a day or two if it means that that rip heals up,” Hunk urged him, one hand keeping around Lance’s waist, keeping him from toppling off his lap, and the other reaching up to cradle at the back of Lance’s neck.

 _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_.

There was a knock on the door, and something in Lance’s chest tightened in terror.

“Hunk? Have you seen Lance?” Keith called through, and the tightness dissolved. Keith already knew. Keith wouldn’t freak out.

“Yeah, he’s in here,” Hunk called back. “Um… are you alone right now?”

“Yeah? Why are you— _oh._ Shit. Can I come in?”

“Lance?” Hunk said quietly. “You okay with that?”

Lance let his tail whip out and unlock the door as an answer, careful not to let the arrowhead tip scratch the interface pad by accident.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Keith swore as he came in and saw Lance’s wing. He closed and locked the door and then hurried closer. “What happened?”

“Don’t know yet,” Hunk admitted. “He just came in here looking like he was about to fall apart and then shifted and showed me _that_.”

Lance pulled away from Hunk’s neck, just barely closing over the skin enough to be safe; he didn’t have enough in him to heal the bruise, not now, not when his _wing—_

“Here,” Keith said, sitting down on the bed and pulling his own shirt off, patting his lap. “You need my blood more than I do right now.”

Lance could have laughed at that, if his wing weren’t killing him right now. Were there still tears on his face? Didn’t matter. He moved to straddle Keith’s lap instead of Hunk’s, and sank his fangs into skin again.

“There’s soot,” Hunk noted, running a hand along the uninjured wing. “I heard there was a fire in part of the city, but I don’t know if it was the part Lance was in.”

Neither of the other two answered. Lance’s mouth was full, and Keith was as dazed and as blissed out as he always was when Lance was feeding in the right spot.

(It _was_ a factor of Galra biology, as it turned out.)

“Lance…” Hunk sounded tired. “Lance, if you told the others, we could use the med bay pods. This wouldn’t be a problem if you could hop into a pod.”

_No, no, god no, please don’t make me tell._

“Lance, please think about this. I’m going to… I don’t know. Purée a slab of meat and bring it up like a really gross smoothie, I guess.” He got up and headed for the door, yanking his shirt back on in the process. “We’re talking when I get back, though.”

Lance didn’t like the sound of that, but admitted to himself that it was probably for the best.

He pulled away from Keith’s neck a few minutes later, licking morosely at the wound until the skin closed over. Keith stirred back into movement, hands coming up to pull Lance closer in a hug. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith and buried his face in his shoulder. He was still crying, but at this point the pain had faded to something dull and awful, instead of sharp and panging. His tears were mostly fueled by his guilt at this point.

“Would it help if I…?” Keith trailed off, bringing one hand up to play with Lance’s hair. “Lance?”

“Don’t make yourself do it for my sake,” Lance whispered.

“Lance, I’ve been fucking you regularly for weeks now. I think it’s safe to say that I like having sex with you. May I please have your permission to help you out in this situation?” Keith sounded almost as tired as Hunk had. “I know you care about consent a lot, and I respect that, but I think that you can trust me to be able to make my own decisions at this point. It’s not coercion to accept help.”

Lance hiccupped out a laugh. “On Hunk’s bed? Really?”

“Well… we can move to another room,” Keith allowed. “But if having sex is going to make it easier for you to heal, and top off your energy levels enough that you won’t be starving for blood again in a day, then I’m willing to make this terrible sacrifice.”

Lance laughed again, pulling away from Keith’s neck to look him in the face. “Thanks.”

“You’re covered in tears and blood right now,” Keith said. “And I’m pretty sure most of the blood is yours.”

Lance flinched and looked over at the wound that was healing, if sluggishly. There was a thin strip of light blue at the edges, a sign of recently-healed skin.

Hunk entered the room at that moment. “Oh, good, you’re done. Lance, drink this. It’s got some iron supplements in it and I heated it up enough to at least somewhat resemble freshness.”

Lance took the tall glass and drank it down. A full human probably would have gagged, but… well, Lance liked it. And he didn’t gag at anything anyway, so it was a moot point on _two_ fronts.

Hunk took his seat again, rubbing at Lance’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Ready to tell us what happened?” he asked quietly, taking the glass back.

Lance leaned forward to rest his chin on Keith’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He was so _tired_.

He still nodded.

“I’m guessing the fire has something to do with it?” Keith said.

“Yeah. I was… I wasn’t in my armor, and the fire was _everywhere_. I helped get a few people out of the building, since if I shifted over into demon form I wasn’t going to be hurt by the flames _and_ nobody was going to recognize me, and I was checking to make sure it was empty at the end? And like… the fire didn’t hurt _me_ , but it must have damaged the structure too much to stay standing, because one of the steel beams came down and just… caught me.” Lance took a shaky breath. “I got out, obviously, because the wing wouldn’t be trapped if it didn’t _exist_ , right? But it was still… the wound stayed.”

“Oh, _Lance_ ,” Hunk sighed, enveloping both him and Keith in a massive hug. “You could have called for backup or something.”

“There wasn’t enough time. I just… I could help, right? I was in less danger than anyone else in the area would have been, too.” Lance rubbed his cheek against the warm skin of Keith’s shoulder and the soft fabric of Hunk’s shirt. “I had to do something.”

“You need to take better care of yourself,” Hunk scolded. “Seriously, the damage could have been even worse, and this is… this is already bad enough.”

“I’ll survive,” Lance dismissed. “Besides, I don’t scar other than in worst-case scenarios, so even my beauty won’t be marred!”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith said, just next to his ear. “Please take this seriously. Hunk’s right.”

“And I still think you should tell someone,” Hunk said. “At least Coran? In case this happens again, Lance. You might need medical help that a few blood supplements can’t cure, and if Coran knows, then the med bay is open for use.”

Lance nodded, just a little miserably. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright…” Hunk sighed, running a hand through Lance’s hair. “So what happened to the fire? Did you accidentally damn it again?”

A wince.

“Oh my god.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” Lance protested. “I didn’t accidentally summon any fire imps or make it sentient or anything!”

“Wait, what?” Keith asked. “What are you talking about?”

“If Lance comes into contact with open flames while in his demon form, he isn’t hurt by them, but he does kind of… leak. Demonic essence,” Hunk explained, a little hesitant. “Like, the fire might gain sentience, or some fire imps might teleport in from the demonic plane, or even open up a portal to there.”

“…I’m going to go ahead and guess that this is another incubus thing.”

“Yeah,” Lance sighed. “The most common side effect, and always the first, is just a really strong smell of sulfur and some color shifts in the flames and smoke.”

“And he can do the black smoke and sulfur bit even without a fire,” Hunk added. “It’s intimidating as fuck.”

“And smells like rotten eggs to everyone but me, so I _refrain from doing so_ ,” Lance pouted.

“And… what happened at the fire in the town?” Keith asked.

“Fire started changing colors, smoke turned flat black instead of the original grey, and we got our damn sulfur smell,” Lance rattled off. “I can demonstrate when we’re planetside again. Not now, though. I’m tired, and we’re indoors so the smell will stick around.”

“Alright, let’s go to your room,” Keith said with a sigh, standing up with Lance still wrapped around his waist like he weighed nothing. “See you later, Hunk.”

“Stay safe,” he snorted, but there was real worry in his eyes. “And keep an eye on that wound.”

“Mm,” Lance huffed out a breath and shifted back to human. “Keith, I’m really fucking tired.”

“I know,” Keith said as he entered the hall.

“Keith? Lance?” Coran’s voice came from further down, a couple dozen yards away. “What’s wrong with Lance? Why isn’t he wearing a shirt?”

“Tired himself out while planetside,” Keith answered easily, and completely avoiding the second question. “I’m taking him back to his room for some sleep.”

“And cuddles,” Lance muttered petulantly.

“And cuddles, apparently,” Keith agreed. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Ah, go right ahead!” Coran urged them, and Lance relaxed a little. “I’ll be seeing you for training tomorrow. I’m ready to introduce one of the old paladin exercises!”

“Looking forward to it,” Keith said, fumbling with the entrance to Lance’s room. “See ya.”

Lance waved half-heartedly at Coran as they went through the door.

“Alright, let’s get you settled,” Keith said, walking over to the bed and helping Lance lie down. He wasn’t surprised by the fact that the wings made a reappearance almost immediately. “You seem really woozy. Are you still okay with sex?”

“Mm-hm,” Lance yawned. “I’m just tired. You’re going to have to do all the work.”

“I’m not bothered by that,” Keith said. “Just so long as you’re still okay with this.”

“I definitely consent.”

“Awesome,” Keith said, hands dropping towards Lance’s belt.

Lance didn’t miss the number of times that Keith’s eyes flicked over to the wound, but… well, he’d have been worried if Keith had an injury that bad too.

He just let himself enjoy the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to deactivate a cat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9TmmF79Rw0


	7. Things are Somehow Getting Handled?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's more talking, some plot that looks like plot, and some plot that doesn't look like plot but actually is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol usage and more surprisingly in-depth discussions about safe/clean sex. Also Lance's sexual history.

“So, two things,” Keith said when he entered Lance’s room. It had been a week and a half since Lance’s wing injury, and Lance was still getting lectured by his friends. He expected the same thing tonight.

“Yeah?”

“This is the first thing,” Keith said, pulling out a white pot from behind his back and putting it in Lance’s lap. It wasn’t very large or heavy, maybe fifteen or twenty ounces, and there didn’t seem to be anything all that special about it.

“What is it?”

“Lube.”

Lance’s head shot up to look at Keith, jaw dropping. “What?”

Keith shrugged. “Apparently just a tiny bit is enough to do the trick, so that should last us a while, assuming we only use it when I’m bottoming.”

“… _where_ did you get this?” Lance asked.

“Talked to Coran,” Keith said. When Lance just continued to gape, he shrugged. “What? Everyone already knows we’re fucking. It wasn’t that weird to ask.”

“Yeah, but…” Lance looked down at the pot, and then back at Keith. “Never mind. You clearly don’t find it weird, so I’ll try not to _make_ it weird. Is this you saying that you want to try bottoming tonight?”

Keith shrugged. “Or whenever it’s convenient.”

“…convenient?”

“I’m still not sure how to clean out down there so that it isn’t gross. I have no idea how to… douche or whatever,” Keith admitted. “You said that it’s easier for you, but that still doesn’t tell me what _I_ need to do.”

Lance pursed his lips, trying to hide his grin. “I’ll teach you how to clean out your ass so that sex doesn’t end up being gross.”

Keith threw a pillow at his head.

Lance caught it, almost dropping the jar. “Okay, so what’s the second thing you wanted to talk about?”

“Coran also gave me a small Balmera crystal,” Keith said. “It’s in my pocket right now, but…”

“Skin contact means you go Galra,” Lance finished up. “You want to try doing stuff while in Galra form?”

Keith winced. “It might make me more comfortable with it.”

“Sweet. Take it out and come over here,” Lance gestured for Keith to come closer, but then paused. “Wait, no, take off your pants first.”

Keith gave him a confused look.

“Tails plus pants that have not been made to accommodate them equals discomfort and pain. _Trust me on this one_ ,” Lance gestured. “Go on, crystal up and take your pants off. I’ll lock the door.”

“Shift?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll shift too,” Lance agreed easily. “Let’s save you bottoming for another night, though. One major change at a time.”

Keith nodded, taking off his shirt and pants. He still had his boxers on, Lance noticed. When Keith pulled out the crystal, holding it tight in one hand, the tail slipped down through the leg hole, flicking about madly.

“That thing prehensile, by the way?” Lance asked, pulling off his shirt and shifting to demon form.

“I think it’s supposed to be,” Keith said, staring at it balefully. “I can’t figure out how to control it, though.”

“That’s adorable,” Lance decided. Keith glared at him with those slightly unnerving yellow eyes, his massive ears flicking forward in annoyance and attention. “Almost as adorable as those satellite dishes you’ve got for ears.”

The ears went down flat. Lance laughed a little, reaching out to run his fingers through Keith’s hair, making sure to scratch behind the ears. “That feel good?”

“Mm-hm…” Keith hummed, leaning into the touch.

“Better than sex?”

Keith stayed silent.

“ _Wow_ , okay, that’s some impressive petting, then.” Lance took away his hand and guided Keith towards the bed again. “Sit down, at the edge, facing towards the wall. Boxers off.”

“Why?” Keith asked, though he let himself be guided and stripped off fully before sitting down. His tail kept lashing about, and he frowned over his shoulder at it.

“So your tail can hang off the edge. Just… humor me for a bit.” Lance did the same thing, sitting right next to Keith. Then he gave Keith a sunny smile and wrapped his demon tail around Keith’s Galra tail.

Keith looked down from Lance’s face to their entwined tails, then back at up Lance.

Keith’s tail jerked around a little, but Lance had plenty of practice with his own prehensile tail, and it wasn’t much trouble to calm it down.

“Really, Lance?”

“It’s a tail hug!”

Keith buried his face in his hands, letting out a high-pitched laugh that Lance would have called a giggle if he wasn’t so sure it would get him kicked out of bed.

“C’mon, it’s cute!”

“I mean…” Keith looked back down at their tails, biting his lip when Lance’s tail squeezed reassuringly. “It is, but it’s also ridiculous. And we’re both naked, which just makes it weirder.”

“My man, have you never watched Aristocats?”

“Aristo-what?”

“Old kid’s movie about fancy cats that sing,” Lance explained. “2-D hand-drawn animation, very nice. Some racist moments, but you cringe and move on, same as any old movie. Two of the cats do this during one scene. They sit on a rooftop and watch the moon and they do the tail hug.”

“Sounds romantic,” Keith said, making a face.

“Eh, kinda.” Lance shrugged. “I just wanted to give you a tail hug. Haven’t given one to someone in a while, so…”

“You did this a lot back home?”

“Yep!” Lance confirmed. “Not a romantic thing for us, either.”

“’Us’ being concubi or being the total supernatural community?” Keith asked.

“Concubi,” Lance clarified. “Other species have other norms.”

“Huh.” Keith looked back down at his own tail, which was still trying to whip around without control. “This is going to take a while to get used to.”

“At least you have a decent teacher?”

Keith looked Lance up and down, and then nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

o.o.o.o.o

They found Shiro.

o.o.o.o.o

_“He’s back.”_

“I know,” Lance whispered, and pressed his lips to Keith’s. “I know, I know, I know.”

He repeated it like a mantra, kissing Keith over and over and over again all over his face, wiping away the tears in the best way he knew how. He hovered over Keith in the half-light of the latter’s room, trying to be the distraction Keith needed him to be. Tears were caused by an excess of emotion, and if anything would bring that much emotion on, it was Shiro’s return.

“Lance, you’re crying,” Keith said, voice low and hoarse, one hand coming up brush over Lance’s cheek. It came away wet, and he rubbed his fingers together, as though doubting the reality of the tears.

“So are you.”

Keith let his hand fall to touch his own face, staring in surprise when it came away wet again. Lance leaned down to kiss Keith’s fingertips, one by one, then pulled on Keith’s hand and pressed the palm to his own cheek, and held Keith’s gaze for a long, heavy moment.

“That was _really gay_ , Lance.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Ha.”

They stared at each other for a long, long minute. Lance tilted his head just enough to press a kiss to Keith’s palm again.

“We should stop,” Keith finally said. “For tonight. I don’t—neither of us are in the right headspace.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lance said, rolling to the side and pulling Keith with him. They lay on their sides, facing each other, limbs tangled. “Let’s cuddle.”

Keith buried his face in Lance’s neck.

Neither of them stopped crying until they fell asleep.

o.o.o.o.o

They were in a bar, or at least the alien equivalent of such, which didn’t actually serve alcohol, or _anything_ that was poisonous or had a similar effect on humans. It was the only reason Shiro had let them go, after all; apparently ethanol was too poisonous to most species to risk serving it to the few that had human-like tolerances.

“I call bullshit,” Pidge said. She pointed at Lance with the hand that wasn’t on her drink. “I have not once seen you get into bed someone unless you saved their life first.”

“Are you saying that people are giving me gratitude sex instead of just wanting to sleep with me?” Lance asked. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

“No, I’m saying that I’ve never seen you successfully land someone unless you’ve made a good impression with the life-saving first.”

“You’ve never _seen_ me land _anyone!_ ” Lance protested. “It all definitely happened outside of your range of sight!”

“Both of the occasions that I know about were precluded by life-saving, then. Every other time I’ve seen you flirt with someone, they’ve basically just giggled and then ignored you.” Pidge readjusted her glasses. “Am I wrong?”

“I think you’re basing your information on skewed data,” Lance said primly. “See, I can speak your language too. Hunk, back me up.”

“Right,” Pidge snorted, taking a sip of her drink.

Hunk winced. “I mean…”

“Besides, just because you weren’t paying enough attention to _notice_ me getting laid does not mean that I was unsuccessful in my attempts to persuade my way into someone’s pants,” Lance argued. “I definitely slept around at the Garrison!”

“Most people wouldn’t phrase it like that, Lance,” Hunk said. “Not if they wanted to present it as a posi—”

“I think I’d remember that,” Pidge countered.

“Uh, no, because you were an antisocial little gremlin who was so focused on keeping her secrets and finding her family that she didn’t notice anything else,” Lance pointed out. “Especially not locker room gossip.”

Pidge made a face. “Right, because I totally hung around in locker rooms that exacerbated the gender dysphoria from going back into the closet.”

“Sorry, bad phrasing.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck and tried again. “Especially not schoolyard rumors?”

“That works,” Pidge allowed. “But I still don’t believe that you were nearly the playboy you’re making yourself out to be.”

“Fine. I’ll prove it.” Lance set his drink down and shoved a finger into Pidge’s face. “I’ll go out into the club, flirt, and make my way out on the arm of a cute alien within half an hour. I _will_ get laid tonight. Do you care to take this bet?”

Pidge eyed him curiously. “What do I get if I win?”

“I’ll be your assistant in the workshop for… two hours a day, three times a week, for a month.” Lance tapped his chin. “If _I_ win, which I will, then you will instead spend that time with me, letting me teach you how to dance.”

“You’d be a shitty assistant, though.”

“I can hold heavier things than you can, and I’ve spent enough times around you nerds to know what you’re asking for when you ask for it. You ask for a certain kind of wrench, I will give you the right wrench. I can be a grunt, Pidge.”

She eyed him for a long moment, and then nodded, sticking out a hand. She grinned, sharklike. “We have a deal.”

“We do indeed,” Lance said, grinning back just as wide. “My half-hour starts now.”

Pidge watched him go, smirking. She set the timer.

“Hey, Pidge?” Hunk said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I hope you like dance lessons.”

Pidge’s brain screeched to a halt for a moment, then sped right back up. “What?”

“Lance is a _really good flirt_ , Pidge,” Hunk said. “Like, I know you weren’t paying attention at the Garrison, but he really got around, and he didn’t even get called a manwhore for it since nobody really bragged about it? Like, he wasn’t a massive catch or known as being super easy, just… Lance, that friendly guy who happens to be a fighter pilot and joke-flirts a lot like a dork. So nobody realized just _how much_ he was sleeping around, even though he probably had more sex than anyone else in our year.”

Pidge stared at Hunk in horror for a long moment, then whipped her head around to see Lance leaning against a counter, chatting up some smooth-skinned pink alien with a vaguely humanoid figure and large, catlike green eyes. The alien’s tongue came out to lick at their drink, and Pidge shuddered at the sight of how long it was.

“But… all his flirting is so _lame_ …”

Hunk patted Pidge on the shoulder consolingly. “There’s joke flirting and then there’s actually-trying-to-score flirting. This is the latter. What you’ve seen is the former.”

The alien laughed, bright and genuine, head tipped back. Pidge’s heart dropped a little. _No…_

“Hey, I found some teq… why does Pidge look like one of her robots died?” Keith showed up. He waved a hand in front of Pidge’s face.

“She made a bet with Lance that he couldn’t get laid within half an hour,” Hunk explained.

“How long has it been?”

“Three and a half minutes.”

Keith was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. “Well, guess I’m sleeping alone tonight.”

“Did _everyone_ know except me?” Pidge demanded.

“Know what?” And Shiro was here. Hello, Shiro, Pidge’s brain wasn’t open for commentary right now.

“That Lance can be smooth when he wants to be,” Keith explained. “He and Pidge made a bet. I’m not sure what they wagered, but it was about whether or not Lance could get a one-night stand within half an hour.”

“And the problem is…”

Keith pointed at Lance, his armored arm just barely visible outside of Pidge’s vision. Then he said, “Lance is over there. It’s been less than five minutes.”

Pidge’s mouth dropped open as the alien giggled, grabbed their coat, and _slipped their arm around Lance’s_ , heading for the door.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She squeaked out. “Are you actually kidding me right now?”

“You said Lance was talking to that person for less than five minutes?” Shiro asked. He sounded concerned. “Are we sure this isn’t another trap like Nyma?”

Lance tossed a glance over his shoulder at Pidge, winking just before he made it out the door.

“No, Lance is just really good at seducing people when he wants to be,” Hunk said. _He_ sounded amused, the traitor. “This isn’t really anything new. None of you knew him that well at the Garrison, but trust me: this is nothing I haven’t seen happen before.”

“But… but… _five minutes?”_ Pidge almost squeaked. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Hunk said, patting her on the shoulder. “Sorry, Pidge, but Lance wasn’t lying when he said your data was skewed.”

“When you say he got around at the Garrison…” Keith hazarded, looking at Hunk with narrowed eyes that… weren’t entirely focusing. Hm.

“I’m pretty sure a good ninety percent of the people who were open to sex with men in our age group slept with him at least once,” Hunk said. “And he definitely helped a few confused guys experiment? Like, he didn’t sleep with anyone who didn’t want to have sex, and he didn’t sleep with anyone who wasn’t attracted to men, but like… everyone who _wasn’t_ interested in remaining abstinent and _was_ interested in men? He just… got there.”

“Got there?” Shiro asked, sounding like he didn’t actually want to know.

“He was friendly and open and when he offered people just took him up on it. I’m pretty sure he slept his way through half the student body in our year and the ones immediately above and below ours, and nobody even realized he’d gotten with more than a handful. I’d say it was like magic, except I’ve seen magic, and this was just Lance been good at flirting his way into people’s beds,” Hunk finished with a shrug.

“I’m pretty sure the magic we’ve seen Haggar and her druids use is pretty different from any kind of… seductive magic,” Pidge grumbled. Dammit. _Dammit_. How had she missed this?

Keith giggled a little. “Have you ever seen Guardians of the Galaxy?”

Hunk gave him an odd look. “Yeah?”

“Lance has _pelvic sorcery_ ,” Keith whispered, then started giggling again.

Shiro carefully reached over and pulled the bottle Keith was holding out of his grip, then brought it up to his own nose. He took a whiff and made a face.

“Keith, where the _quiznak_ did you find tequila out here?”

o.o.o.o.o

Allura stared at the four paladins in front of her, feeling exhaustion suffuse her frame.

Pidge was pouting, while Hunk and Shiro were supporting a red-faced Keith between them. Keith, who was apparently trying to nuzzle into Hunk’s shoulder with a wide, loopy grin on his face.

“What happened to Keith?” She asked first.

“He found booze,” Hunk answered, sounding far more amused and exasperated than he had any right to, in Allura’s opinion. “I’m not sure _how_ , considering it’s apparently poisonous to most species? But he found tequila and as we’ve just found out, he’s a _total_ lightweight.”

“Booze? Tequila?” What in the name of Altea…?

“Ethanol,” Pidge answered shortly. “He found alcohol somehow, and proceeded to drink it like a moron.”

“We should get some water in him, but he’ll be fine by morning,” Shiro reassured her. “Embarrassed as all hell, but fine. He didn’t have enough to be dangerous.”

“Just drunk off his ass,” Pidge muttered.

“And where’s Lance?”

“Using his _pelvic sorcery,_ ” Keith said insistently, then started giggling.

Allura gave him a long, concerned look, and then eyed Shiro.

“He found someone to spend the night with,” he said.

“Why would he need to spend the night with someone when he has perfectly serviceable quarters aboard the castle?” Allura demanded. She was taken aback and a little affronted when Pidge and Hunk snorted, and Keith started laughing out loud.

Shiro gave her a sympathetic look. “What I meant is that he and this person that he’s—”

“’Llura,” Keith said, reaching forward to tug on her sleeve, but missing the mark. Hunk pulled him back up straight. “’Llura, he’s having _sex_.”

Keith started giggling again.

“…oh,” Allura finally said. “Lance is… engaging in coitus with someone.”

“Yeah, he’ll drag his cheating ass back here in the morning,” Pidge said, still looking incredibly unhappy.

Allura frowned. “Cheating is human slang for committing infidelity, is it not? I was under the impression that Lance was not engaged in any form of exclusive sexual relationship at this time.”

“He’s not,” Hunk assured her. “Pidge is just feeling bitter because she lost a bet to Lance. She thought he wouldn’t be able to seduce someone in under half an hour. He was out the door with a pretty alien on his arm in under five minutes, so Pidge is being a sore loser and complaining that Lance must have cheated at the bet somehow.”

Allura blinked slowly.

“Half an hour is thirty minutes,” Shiro said helpfully. “And a minute is sixty seconds. So five minutes would be… three hundred seconds.”

“Ah. That is…” Allura frowned. “That’s very fast, unless my calculations are off.”

“He fucking _cheated_ ,” Pidge grumbled, kicking at the ground. “He must have.”

“Or you could just admit that you should have listened when Lance told you that he really got around back at the Garrison,” Hunk suggested. “Like, full-on Casanova style. I’d say ladykiller or maneater if the terms weren’t limited to one gender.”

“What?” Allura felt her confusion mounting. “I thought you said Lance was having sexual relations, not _killing_ people!”

“More slang,” Shiro tried to placate her.

“Sorry,” Hunk said, not sounding sorry at all. “Anyway, we should get Keith to the kitchen so he can eat and drink some water if we want him to avoid getting a _massive_ hangover tomorrow. See ya in the morning, Princess!”

Allura watched as Hunk and Shiro helped Keith out towards the kitchen, and then turned back to Pidge. “So… what exactly do you have to do after this lost bet?”

“Take dance lessons from Lance,” Pidge admitted. “Could be worse.”

“It could be,” Allura agreed. “Now, do you mind explaining those slang terms? I would hate to remain under the impression that Lance was committing cannibalistic acts…”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance showed up _obnoxiously_ early the next morning with a cup of freshly brewed Space Coffee, hair perfectly coifed and skin almost glowing, looking like he just walked off a goddamn magazine cover despite wearing last night's rumpled clothing.

(The same clothing he had been wearing nearly every day since they came to space.)

“They’re all… ‘artfully’ rumpled,” Hunk decided, as he watched a cheery Lance try to make conversation with a fairly hungover Keith. “Like, you look at them and even knowing they're day-old and haven't been washed your brain thinks ‘He looks good!’ followed immediately by ‘ _fucking shit fuck you asshole, why do you look so good?_ ’”

“Hunk?” Pidge said lightly.

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith is that one friend that can _somehow_ always find alcohol. He's that guy that knows like fifty speakeasies within a five mile radius during Prohibition. It's like magic. He's in a bar where they don't serve alcohol because it's a literal poison to most species? Fuck it, he found some anyway. He's not entirely sure how, when, or where, but he found it and it's his now.
> 
> Pidge really should be more careful about making bets, huh?


	8. Never Mind, Nothing is Getting Handled and Everything's Metaphorically on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance gets comfortable enough with his team to forget to keep secrets.

“Lance? What are you doing up there?”

Lance rolled over and peered over the edge of Blue’s head, down down down until he could see Coran. “Meditating with Blue.”

Coran shielded his eyes from the harsh lights in the ceiling with one hand. “Why are you up _there_?”

“I like heights!” Lance called back. “You wanna join me?”

Coran hesitated for a moment, and then nodded.

Three minutes later, Coran was sitting on top of the Blue Lion with Lance, in the most common Altean meditation position. It was fairly different from the one that the humans used, but hey, if it worked for them…

“Can we just talk instead?” Lance asked.

Coran gave him a look, but nodded and entered a more normal position. “Of course, my boy. What do you need to talk about?”

“I…” Lance didn’t want to tell Coran everything. It had been nerve-wracking enough to tell _Keith_ , and at least on that front he’d been able to distract himself with the fact that he was doing this to help someone, someone who could even relate. “What, um… how would you feel if Pidge wasn’t the only one that had been hiding something from the beginning?”

“Well…” Coran thought it over. “It would depend on the nature of the secret, I imagine. Is this about Keith?”

“No, no, it’s just…” Lance sighed, pulling his knees up and hugging them to his chest. “There’s something about me that only Hunk knew when we came up, and I did tell Keith, and I’m… terrified, honestly, of telling anyone else.”

Coran put a hand on his shoulder. It felt comforting, large and warm and paternal. “Your team has been through a lot, Lance. I can’t imagine they’d judge you for whatever you’ve kept hidden.”

“But people always _do_ ,” Lance half-laughed. “This isn’t just… this isn’t me worrying in the abstract, this is… I have _experience_ with people reacting badly to this secret, okay, and I got lucky with Hunk and Keith but…”

“Breathe,” Coran reminded him, squeezing his shoulder.

Lance shut his eyes tight. “The way Allura reacted to Keith being half-Galra? That’s… that’s actually kind of similar to how people have reacted to this secret before, back on Earth. All the… the silent treatment and the distrust and the glaring. And that just drove home the fact that as much as I _want_ to trust all of you, I don’t… I don’t know if I can. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.”

“A human idiom?” Coran asked.

“If something or someone hurts you once, you avoid it in the future,” Lance explained. “It’s basically how I feel about telling people that I’m… um. What I am.”

“And I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me?” Coran guessed.

Lance shook his head, burying it into his arms immediately after. “I want to, but I’m just… I don’t know if you’ve been in this situation before, Coran, but it’s awful. It’s terrible and terrifying and I _hate_ it, but I care about all of you so much, and if you knew, then there’s such a… a massive chance that you’d start treating me differently based on it, and I’m just… I can’t risk that. I don’t want to risk that. I don’t want to risk people looking at me the way they have back home.”

Lance felt Coran pull him into a hug, and blinked open wet eyes to see the faded blue of the man’s uniform swathed across half of his field of vision. He hesitated, but let himself melt into the hug anyway, still hugging his knees.

“Lance, can I ask a few questions about this secret?” Coran asked after a long moment.

“I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

“Alright,” Coran allowed. “This secret… does it involve killing anyone?”

“No.”

“Hurting anyone physically, mentally, or emotionally?”

Lance toyed with that for a long moment, because he _did_ break the skin. _Yeah_ , his saliva induced a faster… replenishment of blood or whatever, because there was a reason he could drink every other day without negative effects on Keith and Hunk beyond some healthier appetites, despite blood donations being allowed only every eight weeks and no more frequent, but he still drank vital bodily fluids. He still left behind bruises and occasionally scabs if he was tired enough, and he was definitely causing his friends emotional and mental distress by _not_ telling anyone else.

“I haven’t hurt anyone physically without their permission,” Lance finally settled on that. “At least, not in relation to this secret. And Hunk and Keith are probably experiencing some degree of mental and emotional pain because I’m asking them to keep it a secret with me instead of telling the entire team.”

“I see,” Coran said, his voice so even that Lance couldn’t get a read on what he thought. “Have you done anything unethical as a result of this secrets?”

“Depends on the culture, but as far as I know, not by the standards of anyone on board the ship.” Except for maybe himself, but that was all in regards to the clashing of his Catholicism and sexual promiscuity, and he didn’t feel like he had to bring that up to Coran right now.

“Has the secret hurt _you?_ ” Coran asked, still in that level tone.

“I…” Lance felt his breath hitch, focused on making sure his heart didn’t stop. “Keeping it a secret has.”

“Lance?”

“If… if I came clean about it, and you all reacted, um, positively, then there are things that someone could have helped with. I got hurt independently of the sec—actually, no, not entirely independently, but I didn’t get hurt as a direct result of the secret, just as a result of doing Paladin stuff. Um. And then, because of the secret, I may have… avoided getting medical attention.” Lance tried not to let his voice falter, but it was definitely quieter towards the end than at the beginning.

“So that’s a yes.”

Lance nodded silently.

“Lance, why do you think this secret will have negative reactions from the team?” Coran asked.

How to word this… it wasn’t like Lance could just come out and say ‘speciesism,’ but there were other ways to edge around it, right?

“Uh… internalized bigotry?” He finally chanced. “Like, even if they don’t _want_ to judge me for it, they might, because of stuff they’ve unconsciously absorbed from society?”

“I see,” Coran said, and Lance was actually pretty sure that he did.

There weren’t any more questions for a while, and then Coran finally spoke again.

“Lance, I’m going to be honest with you.”

“Oh boy.”

“I’m fairly certain you can guess what my opinions on this situation are.”

Lance winced. “That I should tell the team for my own safety?”

“In essence, yes.” Coran rubbed a soothing hand between Lance’s shoulder blades. “I don’t imagine their reactions will be nearly as poor as you expect. Keith and Hunk are both fully aware, as you said, and Allura and I have had no access to your planet’s society beyond the five of you, so you need not worry about anyone other than Shiro and Pidge. Do you think they will judge you?”

“I don’t th… I mean…” Lance took a deep breath. “I want to think that they won’t, but I can’t be sure.”

Coran rubbed a bit more at his back. “I hope you can trust us with this secret soon, then, if for no other reason than your own health.”

“And the continued ability to form Voltron?”

“Well… yes.” Coran acknowledged the issue, at least. Then he sprang to his feet, leaving Lance just a little bewildered. “Well then! I do believe it’s almost time for dinner!”

“Yeah, let me just… yeah. Hey, Blue?” Lance rapped his knuckles against the metal beneath his feet. “Mind taking us down to the floor, beautiful?”

Blue lowered her head enough for the two to slide off without much risk of injury.

“And for what it’s worth,” Coran said quietly as they left the hangar, one hand resting heavy on Lance’s shoulder again. “I promise I won’t think poorly of you unless you’ve done something truly unforgiveable, which I highly doubt you have.”

Lance laughed a little wetly. “Thanks, Coran.”

o.o.o.o.o

“ _Ugggggggggggh_ ,” Pidge groaned, dramatic to the end. “Lance. Lance, why.”

Lance continued putting pressure on her back, smiling sunnily. “Because your flexibility sucks ass, young padawan.”

“Not everybody needs to be a human noodle like you,” Pidge grumbled. “This _huuuurts_.”

“Stop whining,” Lance advised. “If you stretched more regularly, it wouldn’t hurt so much now.”

“Fuck you,” was Pidge’s oh-so-eloquent response.

“Nah, you’re too young for my tastes. Firmly in the annoying younger sibling category, at this point, and you’re never getting out of there, short shit.”

“Don’t _call_ me that.”

Hunk laughed at them, and Lance flashed a grin his way. Hunk was on the floor, legs spread wide and reaching forward as far as he could. His fingers wriggled a little as he tried to get enough purchase to pull himself a little further out. Keith was sitting back against the wall, content to watch the dance practice rather than joining in himself.

“Besides, you keep talking about how flexible you are, and I’ve never seen _you_ stretching,” Pidge muttered as Lance finished the internal count and eased up on the pressure he was putting on her shoulders and spine. She rubbed at her lower back as she sat back up.

“I do it in my room,” Lance answered easily. “Every morning and night, and whatever Shiro makes us do during warm-ups before training.”

Pidge made a face. “Prove it.”

“Wanna make another bet?” Lance asked, lifting onto his toes and grinning at her.

“Fuck no.” Pidge shuddered. “I learned my lesson on that front.”

“Fine, fine,” Lance allowed, ducking his head and lifting his hands. “By the way… three, two, one. Drop.”

And drop he did, into a perfect forward split that had him bouncing off the floor with the speed he hit it at.

Pidge’s jaw dropped too. “You… _how?”_

“Eight years of cheer, ten years of dance,” Lance said, matter-of-fact. “I can actually hyperextend these, if someone helps me out.”

“I’m still stretching,” Hunk pointed out. “Pidge should be, too.”

“Yo, Keith!” Lance called over. “Mind helping a bro out?”

Keith raised an eyebrow, but got to his feet and made his way over. “Lance, I’m pretty sure we’ve made it past the point of ‘bro.’ You had your dick in my ass last night. I’m _pretty_ sure that’s a bit more than bro-hood.”

“ _I don’t need to hear about your sex life!”_ Pidge yelped, clapping her hands over her ears.

“We’ve made literal _bets_ over my sex life, though?” Lance shot her a confused look, even as he gestured for Keith to pick up his front foot and lift it up. “Like, that _is_ the reason you’re here.”

“Yeah, but then I wasn’t getting any _details_ ,” Pidge said, pouting. “Also, that is _not_ natural.”

Lance looked down at his hyperextended split and then back at Pidge. “I mean, I have a few natural advantages, but anyone can get to this point by just practicing enough.”

“Natural advantages, huh?” Keith repeated, giving Lance a knowing look.

“Hey!” Lance pointed a finger at him. “I’ll have you know that I got to this point through _hard fucking work_ , okay? I may be a bit more bendy than the average person naturally, but I wouldn’t be this flexible without some serious practice.”

Keith dropped Lance’s foot, stared him dead in the eye, and said, “Oops.”

“Psssh, you’re just jealous,” Lance mocked, rolling his eyes and swinging his leg around to the front. He kept his knees locked and back straight as he leaned forward and wrapped his hands around his feet, wrists touching his toes and elbows bending a little.

“How the _actual fuck_ ,” Pidge said, staring in what might have been horror.

“I told you, Pidge. Ten years of dance, eight of cheer. Well, okay, eight of _tumbling_. I did actual cheer for only four of those.”

“The hell is tumbling?” Keith asked.

“Backflips and shit,” Lance answered as succinctly as he could. “Also, Pidge? You’re not stretching. You should be.”

“I’ll help,” Keith offered, moving over to press down on Pidge’s back as she went into the stretches again.

Lance laughed and got to his feet, then smoothly rolled into a backbend.

“Oh, Lance, please don’t do this one,” Hunk begged. “It’s so gross.”

“Gotta prove myself to Pidge,” Lance told him solemnly. “You understand.”

“I don’t get it.”

Lance walked his hands closer to his feet, then slowly lowered himself to rest his weight on his elbows… and then to his shoulders. His arms extended out in front of him, flat against the ground for proper leverage.

“How is your neck not _killing_ you right now?” Keith asked.

“Wait for it,” Lance said, and then straightened his legs out and held them that way, his feet hovering just a few inches off the floor.

“This is scaring me,” Pidge commented. “Like, I am legit unnerved right now.”

Lance laughed and lowered his legs back down, tucking his feet under his chin and smiling at Pidge. “Am I pretty?”

“What the actual hell, Lance?” Pidge asked as he unfolded himself and sat down in a butterfly stretch. “Is that just… what you do for fun?”

“Basically.” He shrugged. “Hey, you have your hobbies, and I have mine. Now, get back to stretching. You’re almost done and ready to start on actually dancing!”

Some forty-five minutes later, Pidge was red-faced and sweating heavily. Lance eyed her with concern as she sat down and grabbed a water pouch.

“Are you okay?”

 _“No,_ ” she said, emphatic to the last. “That was _torture_.”

“It was just a bit of swing. Like, I’m not even having you do ballet or breakdancing or… are you sure you’re okay?”

“What the hell kind of stamina do you _have?”_ She complained. “You’re like a really dance-y energizer bunny.”

“I am indeed.”

“Also, when the fuck did you have the _time_ to learn all of these? You know like fifty different styles!”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“ _That doesn’t answer the question, Lance!”_

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that. _I learn things faster if people I’m interested find them attractive, at least the artsy stuff,_ probably wasn’t a good answer, no matter how true it was. It was how he’d learned to play guitar and violin, and how he’d learned to pole dance. Speaking of which…

“You can take a break, Pidge. I’m gonna fool around a bit,” Lance headed for a control panel in the wall. “Hey, Hunk? Where’s that thing you figured out a month ago?”

“Oh, wait, let me just…” Hunk got up and hurried over. “Let me take care of it. You got a song in mind?”

“Uh… yeah, actually. Let me punch it in first.”

_Fever – Adam Lambert_

Lance caught Keith’s eyes, getting himself another sardonic eyebrow raise, and started strutting across the room towards him.

“What are you— okay, then.” Keith just stood there as Lance danced against him, first chest to chest and then chest to back, looking somewhat bemused but mostly amused. “Are you trying to prove you’d make a good stripper or something?”

“I’d make a _great_ stripper, fuck you.”

“You _have_. On _multiple occasions._ ”

Lance detached himself from Keith enough to dance properly for a bit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk finish up with what he was doing.

Lance strutted out to the pole that had risen up from the floor at Hunk’s direction, shedding clothing on the way. Pole dancing needed _skin_ for the proper friction, and Lance knew that friction intimately.

“Lance, please tell me you’re joking,” Pidge said, though she didn’t sound nearly as offended as she might have.

He tossed her a grin and leaped for the pole just as the music picked up for the chorus.

And then he lost himself in the music, dancing and sending faux-flirting looks at Hunk and Keith.

“That… that’s not how human bodies _work_ , how the _fuck—”_ Pidge seemed very concerned by his more acrobatic maneuvers.

Well, that was just fine with Lance.

o.o.o.o.o

Keith didn’t bother to try hiding his amusement as Lance danced, making more than sufficient use of the pole that Hunk had somehow summoned from the training deck floor. Lance’s movements at first had been _extremely_ sexual, but once he’d gotten to the pole, he’d shed that in favor of feats of athleticism. Keith was genuinely impressed by a lot of what Lance was doing, and… that was new. The pole was growing more parts.

Keith glanced over at Hunk. “You added those?”

“Lance can do more with the T-shape bar across the top than just a single pole,” Hunk explained, which, yeah, okay. Keith could see that. _Was_ seeing it, in fact. Lance took the bar across the top as an opportunity to perch as he danced, clad only in booty shorts. He let go of the central bar and stepped out, something that actually had Keith concerned for a moment before Lance did a flip of some sort (an aerial, he was later informed), and proved just how meticulous his balance was.

“That’s… that shouldn’t be possible,” Pidge said, yet another variation on what she’d been saying all practice. “That level of balance just isn’t possible for humans, not on a cylindrical surface that thin, what the _hell._ ”

“Lance is special,” Hunk said, as though that explained _anything_.

Keith just assumed the balance was another incubus thing.

“Pidge?” Shiro’s voice came from the doorway. “We got your message, what’s—oh.”

Keith turned to see Shiro, Coran, and Allura in the doorway. He turned back to Lance.

“Well, at least it isn’t sexual?” Shiro said after a moment, sounding torn. “Just acrobatics.”

It was at this point that Lance caught sight of the three of them, locked onto the sight of Allura’s tilted head and furrowed brow, looking more confused and intrigued than _angry_ , and decided to take it right back to the sexual dancing he’d been doing earlier with Keith.

Lance winked at Allura, spun around the pole to get to the ground, and started moving his hips.

Keith managed to catch a glimpse of Shiro’s eyes widening before he snapped around to face the hallway again. “I don’t think this is appropriate for me to be seeing.”

Which was fair, Keith figured. Coran was turning away too.

Allura… was not.

Hm.

Keith looked back over at Lance, who had gotten to his knees in front of the pole, arms reaching up to grasp it and a smirk on his face as he bucked against the air a few times in obvious suggestion. He swept himself back up to his feet and went into doing sensual acrobatic maneuvers again.

Allura, to Keith’s eyes, still seemed more interested than offended.

He leaned over. “Hey, Allura. Do you have any paper money with you right now?”

She gave him a confused look, but moved to pull something out of a hidden pocket nonetheless. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“Keith, no.” Shiro’s voice sounded strained. He was still very much ignoring the tomfoolery going on behind him.

“It’ll be funny,” Keith said, ignoring Shiro and taking the smallest bills. “Lance will think so, too.”

Keith walked over to Lance’s little pole setup, grinning as Lance slid back down to the bottom to meet him instead of playing around some more further up.

“Hey, stranger,” Lance drawled, standing almost straight with the pole to his back. “Come here often?”

“Yep,” Keith said, not breaking Lance’s gaze as he tucked the money into the spandex booty shorts. “The show’s pretty nice.”

Keith could tell that Lance was fighting hard not to burst into laughter. “Oh?”

“You said you’d make a great stripper,” Keith said, innocent as he could be. “I’m just agreeing with you.”

“That’s nice and all, but the song’s about to change, and you’re blocking the view for everyone else,” Lance practically purred. “Run along, pretty boy.”

“That’s enough!” Shiro’s voice snapped through the area. “This is… very inappropriate for a public space.”

Lance straightened up, his face changing to something vaguely embarrassed and not a little uncomfortable. He was no longer sex personified, but rather just a lanky teenage boy in short-shorts. “Hey… Shiro…”

Keith looked up to see Shiro standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his face red. He looked about as uncomfortable as Lance, and far angrier. “What were you thinking?”

“That Pidge needed a break from the swing dancing but I was still feeling completely wired from the adrenaline, so I wanted to mess around with a pole for a bit?” Lance said, holding the advantage of being the full truth. “I though Hunk and Keith would find it funny.”

“I did,” Keith offered.

“Same,” Hunk agreed, over by the controls to pause the music. “Pidge?”

“Your body doesn’t make _sense_ ,” she hissed. “And I am going to figure out why.”

Lance gave her a long, slightly concerned look, and then looked back up at Shiro. “I think that means that she doesn’t mind.”

“I need more data!”

“Definitely doesn’t mind,” Lance said with a nod. “Wait, why are you even here?”

Shiro buried his face in his hands. “Pidge told us to come down. And Lance, regardless of—”

“No, no, no, let me defend myself first,” Lance said. “Please?”

Shiro gave him a long, measured look that Keith remembered from his time at the Garrison, and then nodded.

“Okay, cool. So first of all, everyone that was in the room when I _started_ dancing was okay with it. If anyone in the room asked me to stop, I would have. Second of all, I’m old enough to be making my own decisions on this front; I mean, I’m old enough to be sleeping around, and you don’t have a problem with _that_ , so I don’t really see the issue with me pole-dancing for fun. And you three barged in without me expecting you, and could have left at any time. You _did_ take the opportunity to turn around when you started getting uncomfortable, and I’ll be honest, if either you or Coran had kept watching, _I’d_ have been uncomfortable enough to stop on my own, because, uh… well, I’d either be creeped the fuck out or worried that I’d broken you.”

“And Allura?”

“Looked like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. I like being a puzzle. It’s fun.”

Shiro sighed, hanging his head. “Lance…”

“Come on! I did nothing wrong except for _maybe_ not stopping when you came in, and you had the option to turn around at any time, _which you took,_ ” Lance protested.

“Lance, you changed your style from acrobatic to borderline pornographic when you saw the three of us come in,” Shiro said, voice flat.

Keith winced, because… yeah. Okay. That was fair.

“I wanted to show off for the Princess?” Lance chanced, his voice climbing higher. “And instinct took over?”

“What in the world does _instinct_ have to do with this?” Shiro asked, sounding tired.

Keith had a good idea of the answer to that question.

Lance kept his mouth shut.

“I think we can give this incident a pass,” Allura said, breaking the silence. “Lance, next time please stop if you see someone who might be made uncomfortable by your dancing come into the room. Other than that, I don’t see a problem with what has occurred. I’d actually like to know what’s going on. What is this dance style meant to do?”

Keith let Hunk take that question while Lance pulled his clothes on and got back to teaching Pidge how to swing dance.

Shiro and Coran left the room, and Keith…

Keith eyed the pole speculatively.

(He wouldn’t mind a private performance.)

o.o.o.o.o

“I’m serious, Shiro!”

“Pidge, stay calm, _please_.”

Lance froze outside the dining room, stilling his heart and breathing without a thought. Sans the beat of blood through his body, it was much easier to hear things.

“No, listen, I know what extreme flexibility looks like. I’ve _seen_ that. And yeah, Lance has that. But the way Lance moves, a few times, that just doesn’t… it’s _literally_ inhuman. I think he might have broken a law of physics or two. You weren’t watching, I know, but Shiro, _listen to me, please._ ”

“Pidge, I’m not sure what you’re hoping I can do here.”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Pidge sounded frustrated. “Keith pretends he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, and Hunk just deflects so well that I forgot I’ve even come to ask him something, and I’m sure as hell not going to approach _Lance_ about it. Allura and Coran wouldn’t understand what’s wrong, but like? I don’t? I don’t know, Shiro, but something is _wrong_. Lance keeps _doing_ things and I just—”

“Pidge, breathe.”

Lance felt like he was made of stone. They wouldn’t judge once they knew the full truth, he told himself. They _wouldn’t_.

“What if it’s not _Lance?”_ Pidge finally said. “We don’t know what the Galra tech is like. What if they have shapeshifters, or they can do some… some kind of LMD bullshit? Like, just took the real Lance and replaced him with a robot? They might do that! And then the real Lance is being held in a cell somewhere, and tortured or something while we’re all being fooled by a robot and—”

“I don’t think Blue would let a robot pilot her,” Shiro tried to assure her.

“Then maybe they have Lance’s brain hooked up into some kind of psychic feedback with the robot, so it _looks_ like him to Blue’s psychic stuff, but it’s not actually him, it’s just a bot and—”

“Lance bleeds, Pidge. We’ve seen him get hurt in training. There’s definitely blood in him.”

“He doesn’t _blink_ , Shiro! Sometimes he just… he just zones out and he pretends to be bothered by the dryness afterwards, but you can tell that he’s faking it. And it’s not just for thirty seconds or something that’s just a _little_ weird. I timed him going for ten minutes once!”

“Pidge, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

“And I’m just worried because what if it’s _not_ a fake? What if this _is_ Lance, but he’s _sick_ or something and just not telling us for some reason? Have you _seen_ how often he checks his own pulse? People who are okay don’t check to see if their hearts are still beating, right? Or how he just doesn’t look like he’s breathing at all sometimes? Or—” She kept going.

Lance felt like his chest was about to tie itself into the worst yarn tangle he’d ever seen. No, no, no, they couldn’t find out, and worse, he was making Pidge worry, she had enough to worry about, she shouldn’t be worrying about—

The door slid open, and Lance wasn’t fast enough to hide.

Shiro and Pidge stood there, looking shocked to see him.

“I—I don’t—” Lance stammered.

“Lance—” Shiro reached out to take his shoulder.

“I have to go!”

Maybe he could hide in Hunk’s room.

o.o.o.o.o

They ended up going on a mission after that, thankfully before Pidge or Shiro could approach Lance about it. It followed a nice, long panic attack with plenty of hyperventilating and tears on Hunk’s floor. Hunk and Keith both did their best to reassure and calm him before Keith left the room to run interference on Pidge and Shiro, who were basically trying to break down the door by that point. Lance was relieved when the call to arms came, because it meant a distraction. The relief fled once he realized what keeping his secret a _secret_ was going to mean.

Forming Voltron was… hard. Harder than it had been since Shiro got back. Harder than it had been in a very long time.

And all of them knew why.

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered under his breath. Nobody could hear him, not with how he’d muted the comms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry._ ”

He had to tell them when they got back to the Castle. He couldn’t tell them, not ever. He—

Haggar was here.

No time for deliberation.

o.o.o.o.o

In the end, Hunk and Keith both ended up in healing pods. Coran said it would take a week before they were ready to come out.

A week.

A week without blood, with only a little meat from the kitchens to tide him over.

A week when he had already burned through his reserves faster than usual with the emotional distress and the battle.

He could do a week. He could make it through a week. He had to get through _one damn week_ alone. Hunk and Keith would wake up, and then he’d have moral support to tell the team, and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

His secrecy had caused enough problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coran mentoring Lance is really important to me, so I'm hoping to get a bunch of these scenes in when I can.
> 
> Lance has a _mild_ advantage in the flexibility department from his incubus side, but a good 90% of it is just him practicing. A lot.
> 
> ...Sometimes I worry I'm making Shiro too harsh, but he's coming at this from a very different perspective from the kids.
> 
> And Pidge! Pidge. Pidge has been studying Lance more since the bet since it made her realize she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. Oops.  
> Things are about to come to a head.
> 
> Aug. 9, 2017 EDIT: Pidge's worries regarding Lance are hilarious in hindsight, considering what seems to have happened to Shiro in S3.


	9. Guess Who Couldn't Handle This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out... along with a number of appendages. Whoops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 10k of awkwardness, panic, and exposition. Also Lance's sexual history and a small distraction called "I ended up writing about the fae again."
> 
> WARNINGS FOR: discussions in the abstract about rape and bigotry.

Lance sat in front of the healing pods, hugging his knees.

“Lance?” Allura’s voice came from the door to the room.

“Hey, Princess.”

She took a few steps into the room, and then sat down next to him, far more primly posed than he was. “Everyone’s worried.”

“They’re going to be okay,” Lance said, his voice flat enough that it was clear there would be no arguing with him. “These things kept you alive for ten thousand years. They healed me from a coma. They can do this, and do it well, and everything is going to be _fine._ ”

“I meant worried about you,” Allura corrected gently.

“…they shouldn’t be,” Lance said, hugging his knees a little tighter. “I can handle myself.”

“Pidge says she’s been trying to find a chance to apologize to you since the battle,” Allura said carefully. “She wouldn’t tell me what she wanted to apologize _for_ , but she seemed very insistent.”

“She doesn’t need to apologize,” Lance muttered. “She’s just worrying. She started paying more attention to me after she realized she’d missed stuff back at the Garrison, so she’s noticing some of my… weirder traits.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Lance shoved his face back into his arms. “I just want to wait for Hunk and Keith to wake up, and then I can… talk.”

Allura’s hand came to rest, feather-light, between his shoulders. “I know… I know that you and I are not very close, but if there’s anything I can do…”

Lance shook his head. “No. Sorry. I ju— _achoo!_ ”

Ah, shit.

“Lance?”

“I’m fine. Just… caught a cold or something,” he said, rubbing at his nose with his jacket sleeve. Ugh. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”

_When Keith and Hunk get out._

“You’re ill,” Allura concluded, frowning at him; he barely caught the expression out of the corner of his eyes. “Perhaps you need a pod as well?”

“No!” No, no, he wasn’t going back into one of those things, not unless it was _absolutely necessary_ , and, “It wouldn’t help.”

“I assure you that the pods can heal a mild infection, Lance.”

“That’s not… I know what the root cause is, okay?” Lance turned to look away from her. “And it’s not something that the pods can fix. My immune system is compromised by something I’d rather not talk about. That’s all there is to it.”

“And… how long until your immune system has recovered?”

Lance felt her gaze on him, and didn’t meet it. “A few days.”

“Will you remain at this level of health until then, or continue to get worse?”

He… didn’t want to answer that.

Allura sighed, and moved her hand until her arm was wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him against her. “You humans…”

 _Not fully human here, and that’s the problem._ “C’mon, Princess, you can’t blame our _species_ for how we act. You’ve definitely tried to keep working even when it would be healthier for you to stop, too.”

“You’re _sick_ , Lance.”

“I know what’s up, though. I know a pod isn’t going to fix the root of the problem. I just gotta tough it out,” Lance explained. “I mean, I can treat some of the symptoms of the cold, but…”

“And how do you do that?”

“What?”

Allura put a finger under his chin and pulled his face around towards her. “How do we treat these symptoms, Lance?”

“Uh… hot soup? And tea? And basically just keeping warm and not really doing anything for a while so that we don’t put strain on our bodies?” Lance wasn’t sure what to do. “I mean, it’s not really necessary, Princess. I’m not _that_ sick, and doing all that won’t really he— _achoo!”_

Allura huffed and slipped her arms under his legs and back, picking him up like he weighed nothing, bridal style. She started for the door, ignoring his squawk of protest. “I am taking you to the common area. I will ask Shiro and Pidge what needs to be done for this illness, and you will abide by whatever advice they give me. I will not have another paladin falling ill.”

“But—”

“No buts. You are my friend, and I will make sure you remain well. Let’s go.”

_Shit._

o.o.o.o.o

By the next morning, Lance was inarguably worse.

“Stop scratching,” Allura ordered, grabbing his hand where he went to scratch at his arm again.

“I feel like my skin is about to crawl off,” he muttered, pulling the blanket closer around himself.

“While I doubt the causes are the same, as humans aren’t shapeshifters,” Coran said, prompting a snort from Lance, because yeah, _humans_ weren’t, “I can relate to the sensation. Nonetheless, you should stop scratching.”

Lance dug his fingers into his arms and closed his eyes, focusing in on his form. Three more days. He could do three more days.

His nose itched. His skin itched. His spine itched. Appendages he didn’t even currently _have_ itched.

“This sucks,” he whined.

“Maybe if you told us what the problem is, we could help,” Pidge said. Well, she _drawled_ it, really, but there was an undercurrent of worry in her tone.

“Give it a few days, short shit,” Lance tried to laugh it off, but his throat hurt, and he started coughing instead. Dammit. “I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Lance’s leg started bouncing. He didn’t try to stop it. It was a decent distraction from the constant feeling of his _skin trying to crawl off_.

Shiro eyed him with concern, but didn’t tell him to stop bouncing his leg. He just segued into a different topic. “It’s almost lunchtime. We should probably go with something healthy, so soup with vegetables and—”

“Rare meat,” Lance interrupted. “Just… there needs to be meat, and it can’t be overcooked.”

He shifted uncomfortably under everyone’s gazes, but sighed in relief when Shiro nodded and headed for the kitchen.

Lance closed his eyes and focused on his form. Two more days. He could do this. If he just shifted tiny bits, his eyes and nails and teeth, then maybe… maybe he could take the edge off of the restlessness. He could change what people wouldn’t notice if he was careful, and that would be enough.

Allura took a seat next to him on the couch, putting a hand on his back and rubbing through the blanket.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault you got sick, Lance,” Pidge argued from the couch across from him. “You can’t just… _control_ if you get sick or not.”

“Oh, if only you knew, Pidgey,” he laughed. They already all knew something was wrong. No harm in acknowledging the masquerade at this point.

“You did mention that your issue was that your immune system was compromised,” Allura said slowly. “Are you saying that you both know why and could have controlled it?”

Lance winced. “Can we drop the subject?”

“La—”

“ _Please?”_ And if his voice cracked on that word… nobody was going to tell.

Ugh, he could feel another sneeze building up. It didn’t help that the skin-crawling sensation was getting stronger. It was coming and fading in waves, but he’d rarely let himself blood-starve to this point before. He wasn’t sure how much worse it would _get._

“I’ve got the steak,” Shiro said as he came into the room, and Lance opened his eyes to see that he did indeed have the not-actually-a-steak meat on a plate, still steaming. “I hope you’re right about—”

_“AHCHOO!”_

It was the biggest sneeze Lance had given in a long time. Big enough, in fact, that he _almost_ didn’t hear the falling plate, the suddenly-buzzing Galra arm, Pidge’s scream, the sound of ripping fabric, or register the fact that Allura’s hand was no longer resting on his back, but rather pressing down on his wing.

Of course, this was all rather big, and so he did notice. He just didn’t have much time to react.

“Shit,” he whispered, and then sneezed again.

And again.

And _again._

o.o.o.o.o

Pidge had made up a number of theories about Lance’s potential issues while she collected data. The pod person theory had been pretty near the forefront, if only because he was just a tiny bit off in most things. Just a tiny, wee bit of inhuman shit that made her think robot or shapeshifter or one of those weird goo people from Doctor Who.

(Listen, Haggar’s magic was capable of some freaky shit, okay?)

Lance being a freaking _demon_ had at no point factored into those theories.

She wasn’t sure what other explanation there was. He had horns and wings and fangs and a tail, and slit-pupiled eyes that she barely caught a glimpse of as he’d stared out in horror after sneezing.

Pidge was concerned about a lot of things in the immediate aftermath of this incident, the first being ‘is this Lance’ and the second being ‘oh god, someone make sure Shiro doesn’t attack.’

Shiro was mostly just standing there, when she chanced a glance at him, staring at Lance with his arm fully activated and a look of surprise and maybe some PTSD-induced fear on his face. But he was standing still and watching, waiting, not attacking as soon as the actually-fairly-intimidating creature that replaced Lance had made its appearance.

Then Lance sneezed again, and the wings disappeared, but the eyes and fangs stayed, and so did one of the horns. And again, and this time the wings were back, but only one of his eyes had a slit pupil, and the tail was nowhere to be seen. And again, and there was a different mixture of features.

And then Lance just _kept sneezing_ , apparently unable to stop, like he had allergies and someone had shoved an entire flower up his nose, and each sneeze changed which of these new features were visible.

Pidge looked over at Shiro to see him lowering his arm, fear seeping out in favor of more confusion and a healthy dose of concern. Allura and Coran were watching Lance and periodically looking over at Shiro and Pidge, as though hoping that _they_ could provide an explanation.

“Lance?” Pidge finally hazarded.

“ _Ahchoo!_ Fuck! _Ahchoo!_ Coño! _Ahchoo!_ Shit!” He clapped his hands down over his nose and pursed his lips together.

He shuddered as another sneeze tried to work its way out, cheeks puffing out, but it kept any of the shape-shifting from happening.

Pidge sat up a little straighter and leaned closer, watching as the one-and-a-half horns that were currently visible sank back into Lance’s skull. The rest of the visible demonic appendages slowly disappeared, though they pulsed out whenever Lance sneezed again, suppressed as the sneezes were.

“Lance?” Pidge tried again.

He met her gaze, eyes back to normal, and then slowly nodded.

“What do you need?” She asked. Other questions could come later. Right now, Lance needed help.

His eyes flickered down to slab of meat that Shiro had dropped on the floor, and a few things clicked.

“Vampire?” She guessed. “Or something close?”

He made a face and wiggled his head in a ‘more or less’ gesture. Then his eyes squeezed shut as he suppressed another violent sneeze.

“You need blood and raw meat,” she realized. “That’s why you always asked for iron supplements in your food and rare meat instead of properly cooked. You’re… okay. Um. You probably can’t eat anything solid without a risk of choking right now, shit. So, uh…”

“Purée it!” Lance managed to get out before another sneeze wracked his frame.

Purée the… Pidge looked down at the slab of meat that was still on the plate somehow, at Shiro’s feet. Still technically clean enough to eat. Her eyes met Shiro’s, and he nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

Pidge shifted a little closer and put a hand on Lance’s knee. “You’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do, dude.”

Lance whined, low and in the back of his throat, and then sneezed again. Then he started coughing.

Pidge patted his knee. “There are so many questions in my head right now.”

“So this isn’t normal for humans?” Coran finally asked.

“No. Not humans. Fictional, supernatural creatures? Sure. But not humans.” Pidge looked up into Lance’s face as he slowly stopped coughing and tried to go back to his sneeze-suppression pose. “And I’m… kind of guessing the whole ‘not humans’ bit is the part that has to do with whatever secret Lance is so scared of sharing.”

Lance looked miserable. Were… were those tears? Fuck.

Pidge reached up and tried to wipe them away. “Hey, come on, Lance. Nobody’s mad about you being, uh… whatever you are. Just that you put yourself in danger by not telling us.”

“I’m sorry,” he managed to get out.

Shiro came back into the room, with a tall glass of what looked like frankly disgusting liquid. “I had to add some hot water to get a consistency closer to smoothies or anything you can really drink, but—”

“Just give it here, Shiro!” Pidge yelled, motioning him closer.

Lance grabbed the glass as soon as it was within reaching distance, brought it to his lips, and tipped his head back to chug the whole thing.

 _That’s fucking disgusting_ , part of Pidge insisted, while the rest was honestly kind of impressed at the fact that Lance didn’t stop to breathe even once.

Then she remembered the number of times that she’d seen him apparently not breathing, or not blinking, or checking his own pulse, and realized that he might not actually _need_ to.

Lance nonetheless took a deep gasp as he finished, setting the glass down. There were still chunks and bits sliding down the frothy insides.

There was a long silence, pregnant and awkward, as Lance stared at the table, brow just barely puckered.

 _“Ahchoo!_ Fuck!”

And that set off another coughing fit.

Pidge leaned back away from Lance, resting against the table and crossing her arms. She chewed her bottom lip as she tried to figure out the right thing to say.

Lance finally stopped coughing again. He dropped his head forwards to dig his fingers into his hair, and groaned.

“So… do we get an explanation now?” Pidge asked, twisting her head and popping down to look Lance in the eyes. “Or at least another instruction on how to help you get healthy again?”

“…blood,” Lance finally said, voice rough from all the coughing. His hands were still fisted in his hair. “I need to… I need to drink blood. Most helpful would be from, uh… well, a sapient species.”

“Vampire,” Pidge said.

Lance flinched. “Not qu— _ahchoo! SON OF A BITCH!”_

Pidge stared in horror at where Lance’s horns had grown straight out of his head and through his palms.

That was… that was a very nasty injury.

“Oh my god. Oh my—fuck, you actually need a med bay pod now,” Pidge scrambled to her feet. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the holes in Lance’s hands, at least an inch and a half across each. “What are you waiting for?! You need a—”

“I’ve had worse, just—just give me a fucking _ffffffffffffffffffffu I hate this_.” Lance pressed his hands together and stamped his foot on the ground a few times. “I can heal my own injuries, I’m just… low on power right now, I can’t—oh my god that severed some tendons and destroyed some bones didn’t it? My fingers aren’t moving. My fingers are one hundred percent not moving. That is—”

“Lance!” Pidge finally yelled. “What the shit do you need us to do to help you _not be injured anymore?”_

“I…” He stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “The blood. It can… I need to fill up my— _ahchoo!—_ my energy reserves.”

“You need energy to heal, and you can get energy if you drink blood?” Pidge asked, just to confirm.

“I can control my form, fix my immune system, and get a little minor healing power if I’m topped up on that front,” Lance said carefully.

 _On that front?_ Pidge wondered, then shook her head. She pulled at the collar of her shirt. “Whatever. Okay, so do you need to drink from the neck? Or is that just—”

“There’s some arteries in the crook of the elbow that work, and not you, you’re _tiny_.” Lance stared at her in horror. “If I drank enough to help fr— _ahchoo!_ —from you, then you’d be suffering side-effects of blood-loss and _you’d_ need a healing pod.”

“Then take mine.” Shiro stepped forward, rolling up the sleeve on his human arm and sitting down on the ground next to Pidge, rather than take Allura’s spot on the couch. He held up his arm, veins prominent and probably looking like a great dinner to Lance.

Pidge looked between Shiro and Lance a few times, waiting for Lance to just _move_ already. She reached over and put a hand on the back of Lance’s neck, well away from those horns, and pulled his head down.

“Take a fuckin’ sip, babe.”

Lance barked out a laugh, but it died a quick death. “You… you don’t need to do this. You shouldn’t _have_ to do this. I don’t n—”

“Lance, we can discuss things in more depth later.” Shiro’s tone brooked no argument. “For now, though, you’ve said that drinking blood will help. I don’t have a problem with you drinking my blood, and I want you get healthy again. So drink.”

Lance stared at him for a moment, and then laughed, sounding sad. “You sound like Hunk.”

And then, with everyone watching, Lance opened his mouth wide and let his fangs grow out to their full length, and sank them into the skin of Shiro’s inner elbow.

Shiro jerked in place a tiny bit, and Pidge watched in fascination as Lance pulled his fangs back out, _clicked them back_ into his mouth somehow instead of shrinking them, and then pressed his mouth against the two holes weeping red. His neck moved regularly, a sign to Pidge that he was definitely telling the truth about actually drinking. He had his eyes closed, and didn’t seem to be breathing either, though his own ruined hands braced Shiro’s arm.

“It…” Shiro frowned. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“What?” Pidge asked.

“It did at first, but now it’s just numb. Like… a chemical numbness, I guess?” Shiro made a face. “Lance, are you doing this somehow?”

“Mm-hm,” Lance hummed an affirmative without removing his mouth from his… meal.

His face was regaining the color it had lost over the past few days, and especially the last few hours, and his skin actually looked a little healthier too. The demonic attributes shrank away and disappeared, and his leg even stopped bouncing. Pidge looked down at his hands and blinked in surprise to find that _yes_ , they were actually healing. Slowly, very slowly, but there was a small sliver of clean skin between the edges of the wound and the blood spatter.

“Holy _shit_ ,” she whispered, doing her best to refrain from poking at it. “Hey Lance, will you heal faster if you’re in your, uh, other form?”

One blue eye cracked open to look at her, then closed again. “Mm-hm.”

“Then do it,” she said, glancing at Shiro for confirmation. “I don’t know why you’re reverting to human or whatever, but if it means you’ll heal slower, then why bother?”

Lance’s eyes opened again, staring at her with some expression she didn’t quite recognize.

A pair of massive, dark blue, batlike wings unfurled from Lance’s back, just barely missing Allura’s face. The horns grew out again, as well as things Pidge hadn’t noticed before, like longer, thicker fingernails, and pointed ears.

Ears that Allura was looking at in surprise. Huh.

A tail whipped out from behind Lance and lay across his lap, reaching down a little to curl around Pidge’s upper arm. She poked at the arrowhead tip, and it twitched.

Lance pulled away from Shiro’s arm a little, and then… uh… licked it?

“Lance, what are you doing?” Shiro asked, voice level.

“Skin,” Lance said shortly, and then sat back. “Can’t do anything about the bruise right now, though. Sorry.”

Shiro stared down at the once-more unbroken skin, and then up at Lance. “So… the numbness?”

“…my saliva has three properties designed to make the whole process easier,” Lance said quietly. “Numbing the wound while drinking, aiding in the healing process with a minor application of energy afterwards to close the wound, and acting as some kind of… I don’t know, catalyst? As a catalyst to induce faster replenishment of blood so that frequent donators don’t get sick from the constant loss of blood. You’ll be hungrier than usual to help replace all the blood, but it shouldn’t be by much.”

“That’s… helpful,” Shiro decided, looking down at his elbow again. There was still a bruise, but it didn’t even look all that bad.

Pidge poked Lance in the knee. “So did you get enough?”

“…no,” he admitted. “If I took more than that, I would have risked doing something that made _Shiro_ unhealthy. Blood loss symptoms aren’t fun.”

“Then I suppose it’s my turn!” Coran said with what Pidge _guessed_ was fake cheer. It might have been real. She wasn’t entirely sure. He walked over to stand next to the couch, right next to Lance, and held out an arm with the sleeved rolled up. “I hope Altean blood works?”

Lance stared at him like he was insane. “I… it should?”

“Wonderful! Drink up, then!”

Lance’s eyes flickered around to the others in the room, unsure of _something_ , and then he repeated the process that he’d gone through with Shiro.

Except this time his eyes flew open as soon as he tasted the first drops of blood, and he let out a helpless little “ _oh_ ,” before diving down and drinking.

“I guess Altean blood tastes different?” Pidge suggested. “Hey, his hands are healing faster this time.”

Everyone looked at Lance’s hands, which did in fact look like they were healing faster this time. Sure, there was still a lot of gore, but the center of the hole had closed over, and it looked like the bones were fixed.

By the time Lance finished drinking from Coran’s elbow, his hands looked like normal again. There wasn’t even any scarring. Pidge realized with a start that she’d never seen _any_ of Lance’s injuries scar, which was just completely unfair.

“Back to a hundred percent?” Shiro asked when Lance finally sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Coran examined his elbow with critical eyes, and then looked over at Shiro. Pidge followed his gaze, and frowned. Coran’s bruise was gone, but Shiro’s wasn’t.

“Here, let me just…” Lance leaned over and grabbed Shiro’s arm, pressing his lips to the bruise again.

When he dropped the arm, the bruise was gone.

“And not a hundred percent, but… maybe ninety-five.” Lance pulled his feet up onto the couch and hugged his knees. It would have looked pathetic, but with all the demonic stuff, he just looked like he should be sitting up on the Notre Dame.

“As fascinating as all this has been,” Allura said. “I think I’d like to know what’s going on.”

Lance buried his face in his knees.

“Lance,” Shiro said, in a voice that was probably aimed at ‘supportive’ but landed closer to ‘tired’ and ‘pitying.’ “I think we’d _all_ like an explanation.”

Pidge kept her mouth shut, watching as Coran put a hand on what he could reach of Lance’s shoulder.

“So,” Lance started, lifting his head, but keeping slit-pupil eyes on the table instead of on any one person in the room. “I think it’s obvious by now that I’m not… fully human.”

 _No shit_ , Pidge thought. Out loud, she said, “Yeah, kinda.”

“You weren’t… _entirely_ wrong with your vampire guess,” Lance said, speaking slowly, as if each word was carefully chosen. “I’m not… I’m half human. There is that. And the other side is… officially a vampire subspecies.”

“Officially?” Pidge asked, because she’d spent the last ten or fifteen minutes getting used to the idea of the supernatural, but she hadn’t been sure how structured any of this was going to be. The apparent answer was ‘very.’

“I mean, the origins of my breed are pretty weird, so there’s some debate, but we function more like vampires, and a vampire was partially responsible for the creation of our breed, so yeah. Vampire subspecies.” Lance played with the fingers of one hand, looking at it as though trying to find signs of the hole that had been there just minutes earlier.

“Your breed of what, Lance?” Shiro prompted as gently as he could. Everyone leaned forward to hear the answer.

“…incubus,” Lance said, voice tiny.

Pidge processed that for a moment. “Wait, you’re a _sex demon?”_

Lance flinched, and Pidge leaned back and considered that. She tried again. “Okay. Um. I’ll try to avoid making any assumptions. So… for the sake of not getting distracted by myths from back home that may or may not be accurate, and for the sake of the Alteans, why don’t you define that for us?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Shiro agreed.

“I, um,” Lance took a deep breath. “Okay. Traditionally, incubi and succubi is used to refer to demonic entities that feed off of sex, and survive more or less entirely off of the energy they gather from seducing people. This is… mostly accurate. Technically, the gender-neutral term is concubi, and—where are you going?”

“I wanna take notes!” Pidge chirped, grabbing her laptop. “This is all new information. I need to make sure I have it down so I don’t forget it.”

Lance made a face. “I am going to be in _so_ much trouble when I get home… Anyway! Um. Yeah, so, concubus for the singular, concubi for the plural. Same root words as concubine, but that’s not super relevant right now. Just use concubus when talking in the abstract, or about someone if you don’t already know that they prefer one of the archaic terms, since concubus also drops a bunch of the sexism and heteronormativity. Uh… So a full-blooded concubus does need sex to survive. That’s… not really negotiable. Our breed also needs blood. I’m half human, so I need less blood, and I don’t _need_ sex to survive, but it does make me healthier and give me access to abilities I don’t necessarily have when I’m just living off of human food and blood.”

“That’s why you always come back from one-night stands looking like you just went to the spa!” Pidge yelled. “Wait, no, the bet! You totally _did_ che—”

“No, no, no! I did not cheat at the bet! That was all just charisma born of practice!” Lance immediately retorted. “And even if I were using pheromones or something, none of that was brought up as being against the rules. I just had to get laid.”

“But—!”

“That’s enough, both of you,” Shiro said. “Lance, is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not… not really?” Lance dropped his gaze to the table again. “I just found out that Altean blood is really sweet and has more energy than human blood, though. That’s a new thing. And Keith and Hunk have been keeping me on a more or less even keel in regards to blood, and Hunk was doing okay on his own before I told Keith, so you don’t have to get… involved in this mess. Any more than you already have, I mean.”

“Lance, your health isn’t a mess. I mean, it was for a while there, but in the sense that you got _sick and injured_ and didn’t seek help until forced to,” Shiro sighed. “We want to help, Lance. We care about you, but at this point I’m half-convinced that this isn’t the first time you’ve avoided the med bay while sporting injuries you couldn’t explain without revealing yourself and just… you’ve done this before, haven’t you? Just went to Hunk and Keith and self-healed with blood instead of going to the med bay.”

Lance flinched. “Maybe.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What was the injury?” Shiro asked, sounding as though he was trying to be very careful with his words.

“Big gash in my wing from a steel beam that landed on it while I was trying to help out during that big fire at Nerysha,” Lance said, refusing to meet Shiro’s eyes. He fiddled with the neck of his ruined shirt. “I don’t get hurt by fire, not when I’m in my demon form, so I could help without worrying about death by fire, right? Except the building’s structure was weak and I ended up with a big rip and I’m _fine_ now, okay, everything is _fine.”_

Pidge didn’t like the sound of that, not at all.

“Lance…” Shiro sighed. “Now that we’re all aware, please come to us for injuries that we’d normally decide require a med bay pod, okay?”

“Fine.”

“And I need to ask if there’s any danger to you _or_ your partners as a result of your species,” Shiro held up a hand when Lance made to protest. “I trust you, Lance, but what you said about full concubi ‘needing’ sex to survive makes it sound like it would be very easy for someone to coerce or otherwise take advantage of a… concubus? A concubus, and I don’t know the full story on any of this.”

Lance closed his mouth with a snap, then tried again. “I’m only half. I don’t _need_ sex to survive, so I can’t be starved on that front. There are… there are stories, obviously, of kidnapped concubi sleeping with their captors because it was the only way to survive, but that’s not… I mean…”

Pidge put a hand on his knee. “It’s not something that could happen to you.”

“Right. And I’m not a danger to anyone else on this front, I _swear._ I can trance people, yeah, but I _don’t._ Consent is important, okay, and coercion isn’t consent and trancing sure as _hell_ isn’t consent, and I’m not going to… I would _never…_ ”

“Breathe,” Pidge reminded him. “If… if you need to. Do you need to breathe? I’m kind of curious, given that vampires are supposed to be undead or whatever.”

“Not as much as you do,” Lance managed. “I don’t… I don’t need a lot of things as much as you do.”

“Like blinking and breathing,” Pidge muttered. “Anything else?”

“Bloodflow,” Lance answered. “I don’t always have a heartbeat.”

“Is _that_ why you’re always checking your pulse?” Pidge asked. “You just… forget if your heart is working or not?”

“Basically.”

“Lance,” Shiro said, and Lance stiffened right back up. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot, but I do believe you. And I do trust you. I just… don’t have any accurate frames of reference here. I don’t know what I’m working with.”

“If I were a danger to anyone else, Hunk and Keith would have told you,” Lance muttered. “I take consent really seriously, okay. I _know_ everyone assumes incubi are trancing their partners. I don’t need it brought up to my face.”

That was when it hit Pidge that Lance had an entirely different set of stereotypes and bigotry slotted into his head than she and Shiro did.

“Lance?” She said carefully, waiting for him to turn to her. “We don’t know what we’re doing, okay?”

“…what?”

“You… you obviously have experience with a totally different world of… of prejudice and discrimination and whatever? And we have no experience with that. So we won’t know if we’re crossing a line, especially since you’re pretty much our only reference or source. You gotta tell us when we fuck up.”

Lance stared at her for a long moment, and then sighed and finally dropped his legs to the floor. He pulled off the remains of his shirt and jacket (his wings had ripped through and Pidge had barely even _noticed_ , and it wasn’t like they had a lot of casual clothing here on the ship, shit, did he even have anything else to wear?) and reached down towards her. “C’mere, short shit.”

“Wait, wh—hey!” Pidge squawked as Lance picked her up and pulled her into his lap, scrambling to keep her laptop in hand instead of tumbling to the ground. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Cuddle time,” Lance announced. “More questions can happen later. Right now it’s time to hug.”

“Unbelievable,” Pidge huffed. Then she looked down. “Is… is your tail hugging me too?”

“Yep.”

“…I can work with that,” she sighed. “C’mon, the rest of you assholes have to join in too, if I’m already suffering.”

Lance picked Pidge up with ease (was he stronger like this? It seemed like he was) and slid to the side, jostling Allura a little as he motioned for her to move a seat over too. He patted the now-free seat. “To whoever wants it.”

Shiro and Coran exchanged a look, and then Shiro sat down, letting his weight drape down onto Lance’s side as Allura did the same on the other, probably trying to avoid leaning back on his wings. Coran took a position on the floor and leaned against their legs, apparently deciding that this was an entirely rational time and place to have a cuddle pile.

Allura spoke for the first time in a while, reaching up to run one finger along Lance’s ear. “I like your ears better this way.”

Pidge smothered a laugh.

“Yeah? I’m kinda torn. I like both.”

And then he stopped and grinned and Pidge realized what he’d done.

“Was that a bi joke?”

“A terrible one, yes.”

“I should Rick Roll you for that.”

“Bitch, I’d like to see you try.”

Pidge leaned back and let Lance tuck her head under his chin. She folded her own arms over his, and then spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Lance asked, and it didn’t sound like he was confused about why she was apologizing, but like… like he knew why she was doing it, and was wondering if she knew, too.

“I should have just talked to you about it when I started worrying about the stuff I saw that wasn’t exactly human,” she said. “I… it wasn’t fair to you to walk in on me trying to convince Shiro that you might be a pod person.”

He snorted, and then pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “And I should have told you all what’s going on a while ago. It’s fine, we both messed up.”

“But—”

“You didn’t know,” Lance said firmly. “If you’d already known that I am what I am and _then_ said all that stuff about my incubus traits? Yeah, I’d be mad. But you didn’t. You were just picking up on inconsistencies and trying to figure out what the problem might be, and you did it because you actually care about me. That’s… it hurt for a bit, but when it comes down to it, you did it because you cared enough to worry about me. That means a lot.”

She shifted on the spot a bit, then turned sideways and wrapped her arms around Lance. “Still. Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Lance said, running a hand through her hair. “You’re young; I know you didn’t mean any harm, and I also know you’re going to try your best to avoid doing the same thing in the future. Besides, you’re like a little sister; can’t stay mad at you, shortstack.”

Pidge laughed a little at that, but didn’t move. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“Sure about that?” Lance asked, and the thudding below her ear stopped.

Pidge tensed up. “Did… did you just stop your heart?”

“Yeah.”

“Please don’t do that.”

Lance shrugged, and the thudding started up again. “Okay, but… well, if my vitals ever stop responding properly to the sensors in the armor, maybe don’t worry too much? I could be playing dead to avoid getting shot at or something.”

Pidge took a deep breath. “I know, but I heard that and it’s just…”

“Instinctive panic, I know. I’m not planning on doing it again.” Lance’s hand paused for a moment in its movements on her head. "Well, not to you. I’ll do it to Keith, though. He thinks it’s funny.”

“Lance?” Allura asked after a moment. “I’m assuming Hunk’s known for a long time, yes?”

“Since we were kids, yeah. Our moms are friends,” Lance confirmed.

“When did you tell Keith?” Allura continued. “You didn’t seem to get along very well with him when you first got here, so I can’t imagine he already knew.”

“…Princess, I’m pretty sure you can figure it out if you look for a big change in our—”

“When Keith found out he was part Galra,” Shiro realized. “You told him then?”

“Yeah.”

And Pidge needed only a few moments to figure out what the impetus was there. “You wanted him to have someone to relate to? Or you wanted someone to connect with?”

“He needed support. I was… I could relate in ways nobody else on board could. Can. Everyone else was trying to figure out how they felt about it, but I already _knew_ , so it wasn’t a split-second decision, and… it helped him. And it helped me. So… yeah, I told Keith about me after he found out about him.” Lance shifted uncomfortably.

“Wait, are you saying you knew Keith was Galra before _he_ did?” Shiro asked.

“…I _suspected_ ,” Lance finally said. “I tasted his blood back when the castle was trying to kill us, and I could taste that he was only half human, but I didn’t really have a frame of reference for Galra? I just knew that it wasn’t something I’d tasted before, and that Keith could open the hangar doors on the Balmera that were probably coded to Galra DNA, so… I figured it was probably that.”

Pidge couldn’t see Shiro from her current angle, since she was facing Allura on Lance’s right, but she suspected he was rubbing at his temples. “I get the feeling we’re going to be learning a lot of things we didn’t know about you soon.”

“Yeah, well… I guess that’s just how it goes. I’ll try not to keep too many secrets.”

“We’ll need to update your medical profile,” Coran reminded him.

“Joy,” Lance whispered under his breath.

Pidge figured that now was a good time to provide a distraction. “Hey Lance, are those wings functional?”

“They _should_ be, but I haven’t flown in a few months, so the muscles might not be strong enough,” Lance admitted. “I can try later in the hangars or the training deck, I guess?”

“And that’s another point on the list of ways you’ve neglected your health, isn’t it?” Pidge sighed.

“Sorry, Pidge, it’s not… it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I’ve… I don’t… I have had some very poor reactions to people knowing I’m half incubus. I’m not going to lecture you on intersectionality right now, but ultimately, it’s kind of just… bad experiences.” Lance carded his fingers through her hair again. “It’s not about you.”

“Well, now we know,” she said. “And you can trust us with learning all the shit we don’t know. And if you’re uncomfortable with talking about something, then Hunk probably knows too, right?”

Lance laughed softly. “Yeah, he does.”

“So we’re gonna support you, okay?” Pidge frowned to herself. “Hey, what’s the like… effectiveness and stuff of food for you? Like, how long would it take for you to get sick again if you didn’t have blood but did have meat or whatever?”

“Oh man…” Lance tipped his head back. “It…depends? On what I’m doing? I usually separate my diet into three tiers: human food, blood, and, well, sex. But that kind of divides down? Like, a vegetarian diet would outright kill me. I can’t survive without meat or a specially-made substitute, and those taste absolutely _awful_. _With_ meat, but no blood, I’d get sick, but not die. Animal blood is a decent alternative to sapient’s blood, and that leaves me at like… I don’t know, eighty percent? It’s not a terrible life, but not the best either. Back on Earth, slaughterhouses actually collect the blood and then sell it off to vamps; doing a diet that’s mostly animal blood and partially human works for most people.”

“Where do you get human blood?” Pidge asked, since Lance seemed more or less okay with it. “Do most vampires and, uh, subspecies? Have human friends that they go to, or…?”

“I mean, a lot of us do, but mostly it comes from blood banks,” Lance admitted. “Blood that’s safe for consumption by vamps isn’t always safe for transfusion. If it expires for a transfusion, it’s still usually good for consumption, so it gets sold off to us instead.”

“Ah, capitalism,” Pidge said with a nod. “Though that’s… probably not going to cover everything, is it?”

“Hence the slaughterhouses and synthetic blood. The synthetic honestly tastes _awful_ , but it’s ethically sound and doesn’t have more than a handful of side effects, so some people go with that,” Lance explained. “We do our best to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past, Pidge, but it’s not like we can change the world to suit us with the masquerade up.”

“So…”

Lance winced. “Yes, there are still magicals that hunt humans instead of trying to fit into a more ethical system. In varying ways. There’s rules against it, of course, but enforcing them is tricky at the best of times.”

Pidge shivered. That didn’t sound promising.

“But _why?”_ Allura asked, sounding both furious and aghast. “If there are more moral equivalents available, then—”

“Because they _can_ ,” Lance cut her off. “And because a full vamp is drawn to do that no matter what the other options are, by instinct. Mind you, it’s not hard to ignore instincts, no matter what people say; ‘instinct’ is a shitty excuse and always has been. I’ve met enough full vamps to know that. I’m half-incubus, not full vamp, so it’s easier for me, but I’m not _ignorant_. The reality of the matter is usually just that they get off on the power they suddenly have over non-magical humans. They get high on the fact that they can hurt people with minimal consequences, and so they keep doing it.”

Lance’s arms had tightened around Pidge as he spoke, tone darkening just as much. It… kind of hurt.

“Lance,” Pidge said. “You’re… you’re holding on too tight.”

“Wh—oh, shit, sorry. I’ve got a different range of strength like this, so I don’t always realize how much I’m using.” He tilted his head down to look her in the eye. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine.” And she was, now. “So, um… is there anything else to the whole tiers thing? Like, you said the blood helps your immune system or something?”

“Human food keeps me alive. Blood keeps my immune system in order and lets me keep control over my form, and a few minor healing powers. And sex… tops up my health and gives me access to supernatural powers I wouldn’t have normally.” Lance was tense again. Probably for a good reason.

“Like what?” Pidge prompted.

“Um…” Lance’s arms tightened for a moment again, but he loosened them a moment later. “Some glamour, a bit of fire and brimstone bullshit, some vampire bullshit, a bunch of mind magics that I would really prefer to avoid using for their intended purpose, and the ability to… _channel_ magic, I guess? I’m not sure how else to put it, but I can do some shit with runes or tarot or whatever if I have to. I’m not very good at anything except wards and summoning, though, and even that’s mostly just… competent, not super skilled or anything.”

“You can do _magic_ ,” Pidge whispered. She turned and grabbed Lance’s face in her hands. “Can anyone learn magic? Can you teach me? Even if you can’t teach me to use it, can I learn the theory?”

“…I’m already breaking the rules so I guess? Sure?” He stared at her, wide-eyed. “Can I get some stuff in exchange?”

“Name your price.”

“Uh… a violin? And a bow for it?”

“I’ll need your input because I don’t know shit about instruments.”

“I can do that.”

“Deal,” Pidge said, grabbing Lance’s hand and shaking.

He stared at her for a long moment, and then let his head drop back against the couch. “You’re intense, Pidge.”

“I’m tiny and powerful,” Pidge sniffed.

Lance laughed and ruffled Pidge’s hair. “Oh, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

Pidge blinked and considered. “That sounds… familiar.”

“Shakespeare. Midsummer Night’s Dream. Helena’s talking about Hermia and how vicious she was when they were younger,” Lance said. “You probably recognized the last line, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Pidge said. “Anyway, you keep saying magicals, and you talk about separate breeds of vampire and incubi and whatnot, so like… how many things that I thought were fictional aren’t?”

“A lot?” Lance offered. “It would take me hours to list everything.”

“What about just the ones you’ve met in person?” Shiro suggested.

“Um… well, okay. Concubi and vampires are real, obviously. Werefolk are actually pretty common, but nowhere near as feral as the myths make them out to be. Mermaids, too, so that one planet that Hunk and I landed on wasn’t even my first time meeting a mermaid. Uh, the fae, duh, and on the off chance you ever meet one, please just… I will _give you_ advice at some point on how to deal with them, okay, and you will follow it, or you will die.” Lance twitched a little, and then looked down at Pidge. “Don’t make deals with the fae.”

“…what if you’re there?”

“…Then I’ll make the deal _for_ you,” Lance decided. “But seriously, there’s not a lot of species that can get away with fae deals. I mean, _I_ did, but I’m an incubus, so that’s kind of it.”

“I don’t follow,” Allura said. “I have no idea what half of the things you’re saying mean.”

“The fae are… not people you want to mess with. Faeries, elves, brownies, ogres, the _courts_ , all that stuff, they’re not… like humans. Or most aliens. Their rules and ways of life are just the slightest bit skewed from the rest of the world, and they have magic, _powerful_ magic. They can’t lie, but they’re tricky enough to get around that. There’s other stuff, of course, but the main thing is this: you never, _ever_ want to find yourself in debt to one of the fair folk. If you know how to make a trade, then you can try your luck, and there are some fae that provide services for set prices that you don’t have to worry about too much, but overall, just… don’t risk it.”

“Well, what kinds of trades do _you_ usually make?” Pidge asked. “I can learn, can’t I?”

“Um.” Lance’s face colored in. “You can’t make my kinds of trade.”

It took a moment to click. “Wait, are you saying you’ve… _slept_ with faeries?”

Lance shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “Well, _yeah_. It’s easier on both sides. Pleasuring a fae usually means the fae owes you something, which they hate or twist to their own benefit or amusement. Being pleasured by a fae means _you_ owe something to them, which is a situation no one wants to be in. And the fae always try to twist it so that they’re the ones that people are in debt to, so no one wants to risk it. But as an incubus, I can pleasure them, feed on the sexual energy in turn, and it’s considered an equal exchange. Hell, given that we can collect more energy from magicals than from non-magicals, it’s actually a better meal than usual. It’s why sleeping with the fae is popular in concubi circles, and why meeting up with concubi is popular with the fae; we’re the only ones who can get away with it.”

There was a long, pregnant pause.

“Lance?” Allura said carefully. “How many species have you engaged in coitus with?”

Lance gave her a surprised, confused look, and then looked down at the table and frowned. “Give me a minute.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Pidge couldn’t help but say.

“Oh quiznak,” Shiro whispered.

“Lance, how extensive _is_ your sexual history?” Pidge asked. “Because Hunk already told me you slept with half the student body back at the Garrison, and I’m kind of in awe right now.”

“Let me just… try listing off. Are we counting hybrids? I’ll count hybrids.” Lance frowned. “Okay, so… vampire, werewolf, mermaid, a couple different species of fae, a half-dragon, this vampiric nymph out in LA that tried to sell me a bag of weed after I blew them, a dryad, some djinn, a selkie, a yuki-onna, a phoenix shapeshifted into human form, some kitsune, a couple of otherwise normal shapeshifters, a jorogumo, some Norse elves including a hulder, a banshee, this really risky and slightly awkward incident with a gorgon that just wanted to sleep with someone who was okay with being blindfolded the whole time so she didn’t have to worry about turning them to stone, a nereid, this one really sweet troll girl, a wereswan I met at dance practice, a vila, a rusalka, an exceptionally terrifying Valkyrie, a ghost that had the strength to be corporeal for a long enough to get off, got along really well with this one centaur boy but stuck to handjobs ‘cause of physiological incompatibilities, a—”

“I think we get the picture,” Shiro interrupted, sounding a little faint.

“Did you buy the weed from the vampiric nymph?” Pidge asked, latching onto the detail that seemed a little extra odd among the rest of the ridiculousness.

“What? No, of course not, I don’t do drugs.” Lance looked insulted. “What do you take me for?”

“Someone that’s _really_ gotten around,” Pidge said. “When did you even have time for all this? I’m going to assume you stuck to humans while you were at the Garrison—”

“Eeeeeh it’s pretty easy to sneak out when you can turn into smoke, short shit,” Lance said, then shrugged at the looks he got. “Hey, I told you I have vampiric powers after feeding on sexual energy. That includes some minor shapeshifting stuff, like turning into smoke. Besides, most of this happened during spring or summer breaks. I didn’t actually lose my virginity until fifteen, and—”

“ _Wow_ ,” Pidge said. “That’s just… really impressive, I guess? Good time management? I’m trying to imagine fitting all that into a couple weeks and just… _wow_.”

Lance shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable again. “People are pretty eager to sleep with concubi. We’re pretty and we’re genetically programmed to be good at sex. It’s… not hard to get people to take interest.”

Pidge considered that, a feeling of ice growing in her stomach. “Lance, are you saying that people took advantage of—”

“No! No, no, it’s not like… not really? It felt like it sometimes? It’s…” Lance hissed out a slow breath through his teeth. “It’s not something you necessarily have a frame of reference for. Concubi are… there’s stereotypes in the magical community, same as anywhere else. And there’s this kind of… underlying assumption that we’re open to sex with _anyone_ , and in some cases they think that it’s…” His voice got very, very small. “All we’re really good for?”

Pidge’s heart skipped a beat, and then she threw her arms around Lance and squeezed as tight as she could. It was hard, with the wings in the way, but she did her best and buried her face against his neck, tucking her head under his chin.

“If anyone makes you feel like that again, tell me and I’ll send _so much malware_ to their tech, okay?”

“Um.” Lance stared down at her. “That’s… not really necessary? Pidge, I’ve been dealing with this shit my whole life. I know how to ignore it.”

“You shouldn’t _have_ to,” Shiro said. “That’s not…”

“Shiro, you’ve dealt with racism and biphobia, same as me. Pidge, you’ve got transphobia and acephobia working against you. You think this is any different?” Lance sounded tired. Pidge squeezed harder. “This is the same kind of bigotry that you see anywhere else. Racism, sexism, queerphobia of all shades, religious bigotry, classism, ageism, all that shit? It’s the same as that, just magical and with new stereotypes. I appreciate that you guys want to help, but this is a societal thing. It’s not something that two non-magical humans can change. You aren’t… you’re not part of the community, okay? You don’t have that frame of reference, and a lot of people would say that you don’t have the _right_ to get involved.”

“I…” Shiro trailed off, sounding torn.

“If I need you to punch someone, I’ll ask. How’s that?” Lance suggested.

“…good enough,” Shiro sighed. “I just… you’re my team. I don’t like the idea that I can’t protect you from something.”

“And I get protective-slash-possessive as fuck of you guys sometimes, but I know how awkward it would get if I indulged in those instincts, so I hold back. I can take care of myself, Shiro. You don’t need to worry about me, and in a lot of cases, I’d _really_ prefer it if you didn’t.” Lance turned and pushed his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder. Pidge figured that he was probably trying not to stab Shiro with his horns by accident. “Trust me to know how to handle myself and my culture, Shiro. You can’t solve everything by getting involved personally.”

“I think that’s something we’ve all forgotten,” Coran said softly, speaking for the first time in a while. “Fighting this war as we have.”

“I guess,” Shiro sighed. “That said, you haven’t been getting very involved in this conversation, Coran. Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I just expect that my lack of knowledge of your planet would hinder the conversation more than help. I’ll just listen for now and address any concerns I have later,” Coran assured them.

“That makes me feel… marginally better about a lot of things,” Lance admitted. “I guess I’m just answering questions right now, so is there anything else you guys want to ask about? Not like, super in-depth shit, ‘cause I don’t think we really have time for that, but overall?”

“Yeah,” Pidge said, because of _course_ she had more questions. This was an entire world of information that had been hiding under her nose all her life! “You said something about the origins of your breed earlier. What was that about?”

“Oh man… okay, so that’s… complicated.” Lance let his head fall back against the couch. “Okay, so we’re the result of a really, really weird incident from about… two and a half thousand years ago, I think? Concubi originally only came in one breed, and you have to understand that they weren’t the result of procreation by normal means _or_ anything communicable like lycanthropy or vampirism.”

“So…”

“Soul-selling,” Lance said, shrugging. “Whether or not Hell is real is an entirely separate debate, but suffice to say, demons like me have access to something that _resembles_ the biblical Hell, but may or may not actually be it. There’s a lot of academia focused on deciding whether or not it’s the real deal.”

“Well, that sounds… worrying.” Pidge decided.

“Hm?” Lance prompted, distracted. “What do you mean?”

“Hell might be more real than my vague agnosticism previously thought?” Pidge said. “I… my dad’s Jewish. My mom’s Christian Orthodox. Matt and I were raised with both traditions and told to just pick for ourselves what we believed when we got old enough. I’m not… big on religion, though, so I’ve mostly gone the route of ‘fuck it, I don’t know, could be real, could be not, let’s move on.’ Science was always more interesting to me.”

“Well, you can stick with that approach, because nobody’s sure if the hell we visit is the biblical one. Shiro, what about you?”

“I was raised by my grandparents in Japan, so… a mix of Shintoism and Buddhism, mostly, and not particularly devout; it was mostly cultural for me, rather than faith-based. Some exposure to Christian holidays, but that was just commercialization,” Shiro explained. “And you?”

“Pretty devout Catholic, and _yes_ I know it’s weird, given that I’m… what I am,” Lance said, tensing again. Pidge could feel that much. “Anyway, I was talking about the origins of my breed of incubus.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t an obvious deflection or anything.

“So, people did sell their souls to existing demons. Same shit you always see, really; wealth, power, beauty, that sort of thing. Some people ask for interesting things, like writing skills, or things they legitimately can’t get otherwise, like, uh, sometimes barren couples ask for the ability to have children? But yeah, it’s mostly Faustian deal type shit. And depending on the deal you make and who you make it with, you end up becoming a demon when you die, and spend the rest of your eternity working for hell as, well, a demon. And so original concubi came from that kind of deal; they sold their souls and, once they died, joined the demonic ranks as sex demons.” Lance took a breath, pausing in the story.

“I feel like I should be taking notes,” Shiro commented.

“I _am_ taking notes,” Pidge said.

“Anyway, that whole process was usually pretty cut and dry. Sell your soul, become a demon, take other peoples’ souls, they become demons, rinse and repeat. Some people manage to work off the deal and move on, but most don’t bother. And the thing is, if you’re a magical… you can usually tell who the demon-touched are. If a person’s sold their soul, there’s an aura about them that makes other magicals avoid them. But if you happen to be new enough, or desperate enough, you might not realize? So this one woman who sold her soul and was marked down as a future succubus kind of… got bit and turned by a younger vampire who didn’t realize she was supposed to be off-limits.”

Pidge considered that for a moment. “She didn’t actually… die, not fully.”

“No, she didn’t, and that’s what caused the problem. She’d already sold her soul to hell and been marked down for succubus duty, but she was _undead_ now, not fully dead, so people weren’t actually sure what to do?” Lance shrugged. “Apparently, though, whoever runs that part of hell decided that this was hilarious and inducing plenty of chaos, so they sort of just let her go? But she ended up going almost demon _and_ almost vampire at the same time, and ended up as something new. She could have children, unlike vampires, and needed to feed off of sex. But she needed to drink blood and could also turn people, like vampires, and couldn’t broker deals for the soul. So the breed of incubus that I am is all coming from that one woman, either through procreation or through turnings.”

Pidge took a moment to digest this. “So that’s why you said you’re technically a vampire subspecies.”

“Yep.”

“That’s a really fucking complicated story,” Pidge decided, “But it actually seems kind of plausible?”

“It’s my history, Pidge. Plausible or not, it did happen,” Lance laughed. “You’re just so new to this whole world that it feels less-than-real, doesn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“Can we stop with the interrogation now, though?” Lance asked. “I’m… kind of exhausted. On all fronts.”

“I think we can afford to hold off on anything more,” Allura said, before anyone else could comment. “My only remaining question is in regards to whether you will need to drink again at some point today, or tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow works,” Lance confirmed.

“I will be taking my turn tomorrow, then,” Allura decided.

“We can keep doing the cuddle thing, if you want,” Pidge suggested.

“I…I’d like that,” Lance admitted.

Pidge pressed her head back down against Lance’s chest and listened to his heartbeat.

 _This is the new normal_ , she told herself. _He’s not sick, or an imposter, or anything else. He’s fine, and this is his normal, so it’s going to be mine too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are really bloodthirsty. So many people expecting Lance to get locked up or something... and here I am... with my need for them to talk things out like adults.


	10. Oh Good, Other People Are Having Trouble Handling This Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Allura and Lance come to something of an understanding, and Shiro has a headache.

Lance sat in front of the healing pods, hugging his knees.

“Lance?” Allura’s voice came from the door to the room.

“Hey, Princess.”

She took a few steps into the room, and then sat down next to him, far more primly posed than he was. “This appears to be a habit.”

Lance shot her a small grin, and let it soften to a smile as her eyes traced over the demonic features that he’d been letting out to stretch since yesterday. It wasn’t like he had a shirt to wear until he made himself a new one anyway, so it was just good sense to go demon form and be comfortable instead of cold.

“You can touch them, you know,” he said. “I won’t bite.”

“I thought the purpose of this meeting was so you could do precisely that,” Allura commented, rolling up one sleeve. “Elbow, yes?”

“Neck is more instinctive and traditional, but yeah, the elbow works just fine.”

Allura’s hand came up to rub at her neck, frowning a little. “Would that be easier for you?”

“Not really? A tiny bit more pleasant for me, and faster, but not enough that I’d ask you to compromise your own comfort. Keith likes it there, but he’s… well, the neck is considered a pretty romantic and sexual place to have your mouth, at least among humans, so he’s more comfortable with it than anyone who _isn’t_ sleeping with me would be,” Lance explained, rubbing the back of his own neck. “Elbow would be less awkward for both of us.”

“I see,” Allura said, and held out her arm. “You’ll join us for breakfast regardless, yes?”

“Yeah, I still need to eat.” Lance opened his mouth and sank his fangs into the thin skin at the inside of Allura’s elbow, and began to drink.

“It’s odd,” Allura said, running a careful finger along one of his ears. “To see a shape so similar to my own, yet… not.”

Lance shrugged. There was a variety back home.

“Yesterday, I had no idea what any of the creatures you mentioned actually _were_. Shiro did his best to explain after you begged off to go to bed, but he also said that what he knew was mostly myths and stories, and likely wasn’t accurate to any significant degree,” Allura told him. “And what you said of magic yesterday… it appears to resemble quintessence manipulation. I would appreciate it if I could sit in on those lessons that you said you would be giving Pidge.”

He nodded, as much as he could with his mouth still very much pressed to her skin, drinking as much as he safely could.

“Thank you,” she said, and then didn’t speak again, just ran fingers through his hair and along his horn, marveling at his wings afterwards.

Lance pulled away from the wound after healing it, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “They’re functional, you know.”

“I’d like to see that demonstration,” she told him, examining the sparse, fine hairs along the wings. “I think it says something that even in what you’ve described as a monstrous form, you are still attractive.”

Lance’s brain tried to follow two very different trains of thought from that. He settled on the more concerning one. “I never said monstrous, I think.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “I thought… perhaps the translation matrix made a mistake.”

“What part sounded like monster to you, then?” He asked.

Allura put a finger to her chin. “A number of your terms remained untranslated, but one of them came across as… let me see if I can force it to translate word for word… monster of the afterlife?”

“Is that what you hear when I say ‘demon?’”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I take it that it isn’t quite accurate?”

“I mean… depends on who you ask?” Lance scratched the back of his head. “It’s a little more complicated than that, especially when religion comes into play.”

Allura nodded. “In regards to the selling of souls… does that mean you have definitive proof that souls exist, then? We spoke of Altean approaches to the concept before, but…”

Lance shrugged. “Depends on who you ask and what your definition is.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Yeah.”

Lance turned back to the healing pods, looping his arms around his knees again. “I know I said this yesterday, but… thanks for helping out with this.”

“It’s no problem,” Allura assured him. “It’s a minimal commitment in terms of time and health, and if it helps you remain in good health, then I am glad to contribute.”

“I know, but it still feels like I’m just… relying on you guys for a lot,” Lance sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “And it’s shit that you wouldn’t have to deal with if I was fully human.”

“There are plenty of adjustments that we’ve made for your presence _as_ humans,” Allura reminded him. “There would be no meat on the table if it were only Alteans aboard, nor would the oxygen levels be as high as they are. We’ve made plenty of compromises for your species when we thought you were human; this is no different. And you have made concessions in turn.”

“I guess,” Lance sighed. Allura put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, and he leaned into it. She adjusted after a moment, looping an arm around his shoulders. Lance could tell that she had a little trouble maneuvering around the wings, but they managed it. He slipped an arm around her waist after a moment, and she didn’t move it for him.

“I get possessive, you know,” he finally said. “Or protective. Same thing, sometimes. It’s very… clingy.”

“How so?” She asked.

“It’s the vampire side. I’m not going to attack anyone for just getting close to you guys or something, but… sometimes I just need to hold people close and stay that way for a while. Admire them a little. Remember that they love me too. Nobody _belongs_ to me, but I need to have a physical way to remind myself that this person is metaphorically mine, as a friend or family or whatever.” Lance shrugged. “Basically, what I’m saying is that yesterday’s cuddle pile was really good for my head, too.”

“I see,” Allura said, and then hesitantly said, “You mean to say that we are all that important to you?”

“Well, yeah? The team is basically family at this point.” Lance shrugged. “We’d all die for each other, I think. We’d all kill for each other, too. We’re not related by blood, but I’d say that makes us family regardless, wouldn’t you?”

“Friends that close… yes, I suppose it would.” Allura stared out at the pods that held Hunk and Keith. “I understand now, why you said that Keith was helping you with an issue when you engaged in coitus, rather than courting.”

“In another situation? We maybe could have made a romance work. Like this, though, it’s just… too much is happening. There’s a war going on, and I’m not… I’m not _built_ for monogamy. I’m capable of it, since I don’t _need_ sex the way a full concubus does, and I’d be willing to try for the right person, but right now… there’s too much going on. Too much stress.” Lance shrugged again.

“Might I ask why monogamy would be such a problem for a full concubus?” Allura asked carefully. “Is it simply a matter of risk of starvation if the partner isn’t amenable to frequent joinings?”

“Kind of,” Lance said, and then took a deep breath. “The thing is, it is entirely possible for a concubus to fuck someone to death.”

Allura stiffened at his side. “Oh?”

“It’s… it used to be much more common. But when I say we feed off of sexual energy, I _mean_ it. I can’t do it, but a full concubus can either have sex with someone to the point where that person dies of physical exhaustion, or just eat up all their energy magically. And the latter is… I mean, it’s possible to sleep with the same personal regularly, obviously, but feeding from them too frequently, even in doses small enough to not kill them, can have negative effects on their health.” Lance paused. “Keith isn’t in any danger, by the way; I need so little sexual energy to shore up my health that he only gets the positive side effects, not the negative ones.”

“So it would be a choice between starvation or killing their partner, for a full concubus,” Allura realized. “Either feed enough and kill the partner, or starve to death in order for them to survive.”

“Exactly,” Lance said. “That’s why it’s so hard for concubi to start proper relationships with anyone other than other concubi, or really, _really_ powerful magicals that can afford to provide all that energy. A lot of people don’t like the idea of open relationships, or they think they’re okay with it but then start getting jealous.”

Allura seemed to consider that for a moment. “What about you?”

“Like… what’s my opinion on it all?”

“No, how did you… happen? I’m assuming you had one human parent and one concubus parent, yes? How did that work out?”

Lance laughed. “Two humans, one concubus, actually. I have three parents, instead of the usual two, though I’m only biologically a child of two of them. Polyamory, open relationship to facilitate concubus health, and they are some of the _sappiest_ people I have ever met. It’s not common, sure, but my parents are proof that a concubus-human relationship is not only possible, but utterly capable of flourishing.”

“Tell me about them,” Allura said. “Your family.”

“Yeah? Okay.” Lance screwed up his face in concentration for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay, so I have this older half-sister. Her name’s Marisol, and she’s a full-blooded succubus, and technically a few decades older than she looks because born concubi don’t actually age after a certain point, and turned concubi don’t age, period.”

“Will you?” Allura asked.

Lance held up a hand and wobbled it around a little. “My aging is definitely going to slow down, compared to humans, but I’m not immortal like a full-blooded concubus would be. I’ll reach technical adulthood at around twenty-five and then just slow down to like… maybe a tenth of the aging speed that I should have?”

“That sounds…” Allura trailed off. “Complicated?”

“I’m going to outlive most of my friends unless they let me turn them, yeah.” Lance shrugged. “I’m still young. I have time to get to know people, and I’ll die _eventually_. It’s just that my lifespan is going to be closer to _yours_ than it is to a human’s.”

Allura flinched next to him.

“Sorry,” Lance said, squeezing with the hand that he had around her waist. “Anyway. Marisol. She’s… honestly a little ridiculous, yeah? But she helped raise me, since she was already an adult when I was born, and she taught me most of the magic I know. Anyway, when I was like… five or so years old, she had a date but got dumped with babysitting duty last-minute, so she had to take me with her. Mind you, it was only her second date with the girl, right? And I wasn’t exactly the easiest kid to take care of. What followed was just… the most _ridiculous_ and obnoxiously improbable sequence of events I have _ever experienced,_ and I’m fully convinced that every day of her life is like this when she isn’t at home, and it’s the reason Marisol is the way she is. So, first of all, we—”

So Lance talked, and talked, and _talked_ , about Marisol, and then his parents, and then his little siblings who were still isolated to their little magical community instead of being allowed out near humans, because they weren’t old enough to understand what was meant to stay a secret, and what wasn’t. Somehow, Allura didn’t lose interest, just nodded and watched, and asked a question or smiled here or there.

And then Allura’s gaze dropped to his mouth a few times, and Lance’s heart stopped for a moment as he realized what was happening. He considered what he knew for a moment as he kickstarted it back into action, and decided he’d think the best of Allura for the moment instead of jumping to conclusions.

He paused at a natural moment in the story, closed his eyes, and breathed deep. The scent that tinged Allura’s was… it was unfamiliar, in that he’d never smelled it before, but it pinged off of his instincts in a way he knew intimately.

Lance pulled his hand away from Allura’s waist and placed the fingers of it to her forehead.

“Lance, what are you doing?” Allura asked.

“Checking to make sure I haven’t tranced you by accident,” he said. “Which I don’t seem to have, but…”

“But what?” Allura demanded.

“You’re aroused,” he said, as bluntly as he could. “And given how you’ve responded to my flirting before, I’m a little… concerned. Trancing was the explanation that would put the onus on me, but since that’s not it… all I can really think is that something changed because of yesterday, and I _really_ don’t like the idea that you might be interested in me just because you found out I was a sex demon.”

Allura closed her eyes and pursed her lips, pulling her arm away from Lance shoulders.

She faced forward and buried her face in her hands, leaning over to rest her elbows on her knees.

“Allura?”

She pulled her face out of her hands and clasped her hands together, resting her chin on them. She still didn’t look at him. “That’s why I wasn’t going to address it.”

Lance considered that for a moment. Allura being aware that it could be poorly interpreted and holding off as a result was a point in her favor. “Okay. So… what’s going on?”

“We could pretend that this hasn’t happened,” Allura said. “I’m fairly certain that would be the easiest solution.”

“So, like, I know I’ve kept my secret for months… but we saw how poorly that turned out. Communication is important, Princess.” Lance crossed his arms in mild discomfort. “And if you don’t answer, I’ll probably overthink and start assuming things that I really shouldn’t.”

Allura licked her lips, a stall tactic if Lance wasn’t just misreading her, and then sat up and spoke. She still didn’t look at him. “I have been thinking of you more positively since the night you attempted to get me to go to sleep and began quoting old literature at me. I had not begun to think of you as a potential bed partner, but I _had_ been getting more comfortable with calling you a friend.”

“I did know that,” Lance said.

“I did acknowledge that you were physically attractive, to myself. You are… pretty, I suppose. And there were two incidents that made me consider you in _that_ light,” she continued. “One of which was the night of the bet with Pidge, when I was informed of your sexual history, because it was… surprising. The fact that you had never attempted to use your experience to make yourself seem more appealing to me spoke of a maturity in regards to your approach to sex that I hadn’t realized you had. I was also… more intrigued than I wanted to admit to find out that you knew what you were doing, to some extent. The second was actually when Pidge called us down to see you dance, and that was simply… physical attraction based on your movements, to put it bluntly.”

“And yesterday?” Lance prompted. This was already a better situation than he’d expected, but still.

“Yesterday, you outlined experiences with a number of species and claimed competence with almost all of them, something that indicated you’d have some idea of how to work with setups that you had never encountered before. It was… an idea that made me think,” she admitted, and then turned to him. “Also…”

“Yeah?”

“Your ears,” she said, blushing and turning away. “It seems very silly, I think, but the fact that your ears have a shape more similar to that of Alteans like this is very appealing to me.”

“…are you saying you have an ear fetish?” Lance asked, more than a little amused.

Allura buried her face in her hands again.

“Okay,” Lance said, trying to sort through his own feelings. “I’m… not sure how I feel about this development, honestly.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up,” Allura said into her hands, muffled.

“And that actually makes me feel better about it, but still not…” Lance tried to find the right words. “It’s complicated. But thanks for telling me the truth, at least?”

“I didn’t want to put you on the spot,” Allura said, lifting her head again and sitting up straight. “You said… so much about how you were accustomed to people treating you differently when they knew of your species, or believing you to be not only open to sex but for it to be all you were usef… in any case, I felt that bringing up any interests I may have been nursing would be a very poor idea for a while yet.”

Lance looked down at his feet, then over at where Allura had her hands pressed into her lap, tight fists that whitened her knuckles a little. He reached out and took one of her hands, smoothing out her hand and lacing their fingers together. He looked up at her and brought their hands up so he could press his lips to the back of her hand.

“You’re saying you’d want to sleep with me?” He asked.

“If you’re amenable,” she said.

“I’ll need to think about this.”

“Of course,” she said immediately, nodding.

“And I can’t promise you a romance, just… friendship and physical intimacy.”

“I assumed as much.”

“And no hard feelings if I decide against it?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I’ll have an answer for you at… some point, I guess. Hopefully today.”

Allura nodded.

Lance watched her for a moment, and then grinned. “You think I’m cute, don’t you?”

She blushed and buried her face in her hands again. “I am already regretting this conversation.”

Lance laughed and got to his feet. “C’mon, Princess. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

He held out a hand to her, and she took it after a long moment. He pulled her in close and slung an arm around her shoulders, wings cupping in close to avoid clipping the doors as they walked through.

Lance tossed a look back at the occupied pods and felt the anxious knot in his stomach loosen a little. Two more days, and everyone would finally be on the same page.

o.o.o.o.o

Shiro walked into the room for lunch, eyes down on a tablet, and looked up in confusion when he realized that everyone was silent. It was a nice silence, given the pounding in his head, but it was still unnerving. Pidge and Allura were there, and he could hear Coran over in the kitchen, but… “Where’s Lance?”

“Pulling a gargoyle impression,” Pidge said, pointing at the ceiling.

Shiro looked up to see that yes, Lance was indeed perched on one of the rafters, staring down at all of them in demon form.

“Hey.”

Lance seemed amused, more than anything, even hunched over and in a position that looked uncomfortable, at best. Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“As impressive as that is, it’s time to eat lunch,” Shiro said. “Come back down.”

“Fiiiiiine,” Lance whined, then tilted forward and fell off the beam. His wings caught the air, unsurprisingly, and he floated slowly back down to ground level in wide circles.

“I didn’t think bat wings were made for gliding,” Pidge commented.

“It’s rare, but it happens,” Lance said, landing with a small stumble in front of Shiro after flapping a few times to keep from crashing at speed. “And it’s more efficient to gain height and then glide, at this size.”

He looked up and blinked. It was not a normal blink, as Shiro expected.

“Was that a second set of eyelids?” He asked, staring perhaps a little more than was polite.

“Wh—oh, yeah. Nictitating membrane. It’s there to get rid of debris while flying so I don’t crash into things because I can’t see.” Lance leaned forward and blinked again, this time slower, showing off the transparent film that flicked sideways across his eyes. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Hell yeah, it is! I wanna see!” Pidge demanded, and Lance turned to her with a grin, presumably demonstrating again.

“So you definitely still have the muscle mass to fly, then.” Shiro nodded. “That’s good.”

“I mean… it’s not super useful to Voltron, but yeah, I can do it.” Lance pulled an arm across his chest and stretched. “Still need to hit the training deck to see if I still have my more acrobatic stuff on hand.”

“Why wouldn’t it be useful?” Pidge asked. “I think flying seems like it would be a pretty good skill to have on hand?”

“I mean, when we’re not in our lions, we’re usually fighting in enclosed hallways or something. And if we’re not in either, then we’re probably in a situation where there’s no atmosphere? And I can’t fly without something to push against.” Lance ran a hand through his hair and up a horn. “Besides, I can’t risk ripping through the armor by shifting, can I?”

“The armor _should_ change shape to accommodate the paladin,” Coran mused, rubbing his chin as he came in with lunch. “But the sudden addition of appendages may pose a problem.”

“Yeah, so it’s just not a big help unless I’m like… escaping from the top of a big building while stripped of my armor,” Lance said. He paused, thinking. “That would be cool, actually. Very dramatic.”

Shiro eyed him for a long moment, and then sighed, shaking his head. “Right. In any case, I’d like to see what you can do in that regard on the training deck later. We’ll also need to find you some more clothes.”

“I found a couple of bolts of fabric and a sewing machine,” Lance assured him, grabbing the plate that Coran passed him; there was a slightly disgusting cut of near-raw meat that Shiro felt uncomfortable even looking at. “I’m thinking a virgin-killing sweater?”

“Please,” Allura said, her voice strangled, “tell me that that is more slang.”

“It means backless sweater, Princess.” Pidge didn’t look up from her computer. “And I figure Lance wants to make one so that he can wear clothing while in demon form.”

“My physique is worth marveling at, but I would like to have a shirt again, yes.” Lance awkwardly took a seat in one of the dining room chairs and setting down his plate. “The castle’s too cold to go around shirtless in while human-form, and the furniture wasn’t built with wings in mind.”

“Mm,” Shiro hummed noncommittally, taking his own seat. “Does this mean you’ll be spending more time in your incubus form even after getting some clothes?”

“Demon form; I’m always an incubus,” Lance corrected. “And yeah. I just… it’s more comfortable sometimes. Both forms are equally natural to me, and it’s a bit weird to stick to just one, you know?”

“Are you going to be spending time in the rafters, then?”

“Uh, obviously?” Lance leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and cupping his chin in his hands. “I like being up in high places. It’s nice.”

Shiro shrugged, looking back down at the papers in his hands. “So long as you don’t get yourself hurt doing that, I don’t care.”

“Space Dad approves!” Lance crowed.

Shiro winced, leaning away from the yelling. “I have a headache. Please keep it down.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Lance apologized, then turned to Pidge and leaned over the empty seat to silently ask for a high five.

Pidge gave it to him.

“Well, we can go check out your flying later,” Shiro said. “For now, eat. Also… don’t call me Space Dad.”

“Aw, but it fits you so well!” Lance whined, thankfully keeping his voice down. “You’re like the team dad, and we’re in space!”

“It makes me uncomfortable, and I’d really prefer it if you didn’t,” Shiro said, aiming to keep his voice level.

“…fine,” Lance sighed. “No more Space Dad jokes behind your back, then. Even if it _was_ your not-birthday a week ago, and you’re twenty-six and thus _old_ now.”

“ _Lance_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually sips my tea* So... if you didn't see this coming... sorry? But I've been building towards it for a while.
> 
> EDIT: I've realized this might be a thing that people do: please don't comment JUST to tell me your shipping preferences. I know that most of you probably ship Klance but not Allurance/Lallura/whatever you call it. I can guess this, and being told that my readers dislike a major ship of the fic is just... it's pointless. There is no reason to tell me that you dislike the ship, really. It does nothing for you, and it annoys me, so please just... don't.
> 
> I've had this planned for a while, and as I've made clear by now, part of the theme for Lance is platonic, sexual relationships that are _equally_ close and important to him as any other kind of relationship, and that having more than one at a time is perfectly natural if all parties have agreed to the open nature of it.


	11. Other People Are Insisting That I Let Them Help Me Handle Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance flies, comes to a decision, and then gets lectured by multiple people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves for: mild sexual content, xenobiology, more Shakespeare (and The Princess Bride) references, an explanation of the title (finally), more discussions regarding safe sex and supernatural biology (with mentions of miscarriage and pregnancy), and some good old-fashioned guilt-tripping for your own good.

Lance took off at a run before he started flapping, because he couldn’t really make it into the air from a standstill without expending a truly obnoxious amount of effort. He flew his way up to a ridge that stuck out from the wall of the training deck and landed as well as he could, reaching out with just a little magic to stay perched instead of slipping from the inadequate friction.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaped backwards. He put enough push into it to flip, wings catching the air and letting him wrench himself sideways and away from the wall as he finished his loop. He made a wide circle of the room, flapping to maintain altitude, and then started climbing.

“Whatcha gonna do first?” Pidge yelled.

“Dives!”

And he did. Sure, they weren’t particularly _good_ dives, but he was doing them. They strained his wings a metric fuckton, but that was just going to be a matter of practice. He had to get those muscles back _somehow_.

He climbed again, after a few dives that left Coran and Shiro with stricken looks on their faces. Sure, curling his wings in, dropping straight down headfirst, and only saving himself at the last second by flaring his wings _looked_ impressive, and it was definitely dangerous, but… he was a half-demon. Practically immortal, to the point where he could most likely survive decapitation, if he’d slept around recently.

Lance didn’t tell them that. They had enough to worry about _without_ losing their heads over whether Lance would let himself _literally_ lose his.

Loops were hard. Like, really hard. Bat wings were not designed for doing loop-de-loops, but Lance had spent a large portion of his life doing things he wasn’t designed to do, because he’d gone and learned how anyway. He was determined to keep this skill.

Unfortunately, he slammed into a wall shoulder-first and tumbled to the ground, just barely keeping his wings open to make the landing bearable.

“Lance!” Shiro yelled, running over.

“I’m fine! Totally chill! Everything is a-okay!” Lance yelled back. He sat up just as Coran and Shiro showed up, rubbing at the soon-to-be bruise. “It’s just my shoulder. I didn’t hit my head or anything important.”

“Are you sure?” Shiro asked, getting to his knees and leaning in to examine the injury. He took Lance’s arm and started moving it around, probably to check if the joint was damaged at all.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lance insisted, pulling his arm away. “Self-healing, remember? You don’t have to worry about minor injuries like that.”

“I…” Shiro closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. Coran didn’t seem to be doing much better. “It’s hard to remember that. All I see is that you’re hurt.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Lance said, rocking to his feet. “Now, I was hoping we could try to do some drills with the drones?”

Shiro and Coran exchanged a look. Coran shrugged. “I suppose I’ll go see what I can do from the observation deck.”

Lance… needed to work on his aim while flying. It was still better than average, but this was honestly a little embarrassing compared to his usual accuracy.

o.o.o.o.o

“Princess, can I talk to you for a moment?” Lance said after dinner, catching her eye as best he could. Shiro had already left, but Pidge and Coran were there, and not distracted enough to miss this. “Alone?”

“Ah, is this about what we discussed this morning?” She asked.

He nodded, shoving his hands deep inside his pockets. “We could talk in your room?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and Lance was aware of the other two’s eyes on them. Allura just nodded and headed for the door, and Lance followed.

“Do you even have a condom?” Pidge asked before he made it out into the hallway.

“Don’t need one. Incubus, remember?” He tossed a look over his shoulder. “Can’t contract STDs, and I can control my own fertility. Pretty sure that covers the major safety bases.”

Pidge stared at him for a moment. “You know, I wasn’t actually expecting an answer there. Are you two gonna—”

“Don’t know yet. You might wanna stop asking, though,” Lance advised. “See ya later!”

He waited for the door to close behind him before turning to Allura.

“…they know?” She asked, sounding a little nervous.

“I don’t think they’re going to judge you, Princess.” Lance patted her on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go talk.”

She nodded after a moment, leading him towards her room.

It was sparsely furnished and dimly lit. The bed looked large and comfortable, but uninteresting and basic. There was some jewelry in a box on the vanity, and what looked like makeup, but nothing else. A half-open closet revealed two spare dresses, and there was a stand for her battle uniform.

“This is very bare,” he said after a moment. “I think I expected more, for a royal bedroom.”

“It wasn’t before,” Allura told him, her voice quiet. “But many of my belongings were not designed to last ten thousand years. Left in the open air as they were, they did not survive the passage of time.”

“That’s kind of depressing.” Lance walked over to the bed and sat down, toeing off his shoes and pulling his legs up underneath him. “So, about that suggestion from earlier today.”

“Suggestion? Is that what we’re calling it?” Allura took a seat next to him, folding her hands in her lap.

“Well, it wasn’t really an offer or a request on either of our parts, so yeah. Suggestion.” Lance shrugged. “I have a question: what _do_ you want out of this, if I agree?”

Allura blinked at him, and then frowned. “I am not entirely sure. I do not wish to ruin what friendship we have managed to build between ourselves. I find you attractive, especially with—”

“The ears, yeah. I noticed.” It was a bit weird, after all the other things people had found attractive about him, for _ears_ to be so important, but he decided that he didn’t mind.

“Yes. In any case, I do find you attractive, and would not be opposed to engaging in sexual relations with you, to any degree.” She fiddled with her thumbs for a moment. “I will confess that is has been a rather long time since I _have_ had sexual relations with anyone, due to the war. There wasn’t much time for me to go out and court anyone, and for the princess to engage in coitus with someone without being courted first wasn’t something that was considered acceptable.”

“So you want to keep our friendship in place, and you’d like to have sex.” Lance considered her for a moment. “No romance necessary? No strings attached? No exclusivity?”

“I _have_ been paying attention, Lance,” she said, voice dry. “I understand that you are interested in friendship and sexual activity, but not romance at this time. I understand that, should we engage in that sexual activity, it does not preclude either of us from engaging in such with other people. I entirely expect you will continue spending some of your nights with Keith in such a manner.”

“Yeah, probably,” Lance said, shrugging. “If you tried to make me pick between the two of you, I’d pick him just because I don’t like being forced to choose like that.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Allura promised. “Is this your way of saying you are… amenable?”

“I do need to ask one more thing, since this is more likely to end up a long-term arrangement than a one-night stand: are you okay with me feeding off of this?” Lance looked her dead in the eye. “I can refrain from it, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I have a lot of quintessence, Lance.” Allura said. “I’m certain I can handle it.”

“Well, no matter what happens, _tell me_ if you think it’s started to have a negative effect on your health,” Lance stressed. “Promise?”

“Yes, Lance, I promise.” Allura rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child.”

“I know, but still.” Lance shook his head. “Never mind. Are we good to go? Got any questions of your own?”

“…why _did_ you agree?” she asked. “After everything you said, I expected you to be angry, not agreeing to it.”

“You’re my friend. I trust you to not want to hurt me like that.” Lance leaned towards her and brought a hand up, putting the tip of his finger under Allura’s chin and pulling her close. “Last chance to back out, Princess.”

Allura gave him a long, considering look.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him like he was a life-preserver and she was a drowning woman.

Lance tilted to his head to deepen the kiss, digging the fingers of one hand into her hair, and reaching for the clasp of her dress with the other.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance lay on his stomach, head on his arms, with one wing tucked in against his side while the other curled around and over Allura’s naked form.

“That was…” she trailed off, thinking. “Very good.”

“Don’t want to inflate my ego?” Lance asked, just a little sarcastically.

She pushed lightly against his shoulder, but smiled. “Yes, fine, it was some of the best I’ve had. You are very good at what you do, as you claimed.”

“Hashtag obvi,” he said, pulling one arm out from underneath his head to reach out and tuck away a stray lock of Allura’s hair. “Definitely a new experience for me, though.”

“Oh?”

“I haven’t met a species yet that has that kind of…” he tried to figure out how to phrase it. “There’s, like, a forest of tiny tentacles down there? Like someone took a sea anemone and turned it inside out. A perfectly circular passage with tiny tentacles growing out of the walls. That’s… new.”

“Bad new?” Allura asked, though she didn’t seem to expect him to agree.

“Nah, just… different. It’s gonna take some practice to figure out the best ways to stimulate that.” Lance pushed himself up and back, stretching. “Damn, though. I almost forgot how strong you are.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Allura asked, shivering a little as Lance’s wings stretched out to their full span instead of acting as a replacement blanket.

“I’ve slept with stronger, trust me. Nothing I can’t handle.” Lance assured her, flopping back down. “Also, can I just say that your energy tastes _amazing?_ Like, I figured it might, since your blood does too, but that was just… man. Delicious.”

“I’m fairly certain that what you were feeding off of was my quintessence, Lance.” Allura reached over and ran a thumb along his jaw and up to his ears. “In which case, yes, Alteans have some very strong quintessence, compared to most other known species.”

“Very sweet, too,” Lance told her, twisting his head to kiss her palm. “I could gorge myself on it, but that would probably hurt you, so…”

“I’ll thank you for moderating your intake,” Allura laughed. She shifted a little closer, so she could lay against him as closely as possible while taking the wings into account, and hooked a leg around his.

He kissed her nose.

Allura blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You’re adorable,” he told her. “And many other kinds of attractive, but right now, you’re adorable.”

“Thank you?” Allura’s eyes traced over his face, and then she sighed. “Thank you. And I don’t mean it about calling me adorable. I mean… for tonight.”

“Well, I did get some fun and a meal out of it myself,” he reminded her. “And let’s be real, I’ve been thinking you’re hot as hell since I got here, so I probably would have said yes even if I was entirely human.”

“I know, but… thank for not thinking the worst of me. It would have been entirely within your rights to do so, but you didn’t, so… thank you for giving me that chance.”

Lance leaned over and pressed his lips to Allura’s again. He pulled away after a long moment and looked her in the eyes. “I’m serious; don’t worry about it. I had my time to think it over, and I decided it’s fine. For now, just… enjoy the afterglow. Or tell me if you want to go again. I’m open to either.”

“I’m a little tired,” Allura admitted. “So any attempts to ‘go again,’ as you put it, would have to be done by you.”

“Yeah?” Lance flicked his tail over to lay across Allura legs, and then dragged it up, up, up. He grinned at her widening eyes as he reached his target. “It’s prehensile, did you know?”

“I did n— _oh!”_ Her face went red as Lance flicked his tail around inside, careful to keep the arrowhead tip small and very, very blunt. “That is… very, _ah!_ Very interesting!”

He pulled her into another kiss, and then brought his lips to her ears. “Two questions: one, can you shapeshift other genitalia or are you limited to what you have? And two…”

He twisted his tail again, and whispered in her ear as she whimpered.

“How do you feel about double penetration?”

o.o.o.o.o

“Seriously?” Pidge asked, looking between the two at breakfast the next morning. Allura kept her eyes on her plate, face red. She was smiling, but it was very much an embarrassed smile.

“What?” Lance asked, feigning ignorance.

“ _Seriously?”_ Pidge demanded again, gesturing between the two of them. “How the hell do you work so fast?”

“In my defense, Allura was the one to instigate, and apparently that’s been building for weeks,” Lance said.

Pidge turned to Allura, making a wild-looking, soundless _WHY_ gesture.

“…he’s very pretty,” Allura said, not looking up from her food goo. “And his ears in this form are pleasing to me.”

“And I’m just plain good at what I do,” Lance finished.

“Ahem,” Shiro coughed, drawing their attention. “If we could end the conversation here? I don’t think Coran or I are comfortable with the subject.”

Coran shrugged, but it did look uncomfortable enough that Lance figured it was best to leave out the details.

“Fine, fine,” Pidge said. “We can stop talking about these two somehow deciding to make the beast with two backs.”

“Aw, Pidge made a Shakespeare reference!” Lance clasped his hands together over his heart. “I’m so proud!”

Pidge blinked at him, eyes wide and guileless behind her glasses. “That was Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, it’s from Othello, but it got passed into common slang pretty quickly.” Lance tucked his hands behind his head and turned his head up to look at the ceiling. “A lot of Shakespearean phrases ended up becoming slang, though some of them were already common slang that just got worked in and we don’t even realize it most of the time because it’s so outdated by now.”

“Like?” Pidge asked.

Lance dropped his head, raising an eyebrow, and then turned to Allura. After a moment’s thought, he climbed onto the table and jumped over to land in front over her. He stood up, kept his legs straight, and bent over at the waist to take her hand in his and bring it to his lips for a kiss. “I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

Allura’s blush actually faded at that. She quirked an eyebrow at him instead, and Lance stifled a laugh.

“That… sounds super romantic and not particularly sexual,” Shiro said after a moment.

Lance straightened, grinning. His tail flicked around behind him. “Elizabethan slang included using ‘to die’ as ‘to reach climax.’ So… yeah, that was an orgasm reference.”

“Okay, then. That is… most certainly a thing. Also, get off the table, Lance. We’re eating,” Shiro said.

“Why would anyone use death as a metaphor for sexual activity?” Coran asked. “That seems very counterintuitive.”

“I mean, the French still do it. ‘La petite mort.’ The little death. Like, the phrase can be used to mean other things, but it’s mostly used as slang for orgasms.” Lance walked back to his seat and dropped back down into it. “I think it’s overall meant to refer to, like, moments where you lose total consciousness for a moment? Just feeling faint for a short bit or whatever. But nowadays it’s mostly just about really strong orgasms.”

“I’m somehow not surprised that this is the kind of thing you know more about than I do,” Pidge said.

“Hey, it’s relevant to my daily life, isn’t it?” Lance picked up a spoon and pointed it at her. “Besides, that specific one is particularly apt, isn’t it? I’m already a little dead, just not all the way. Half human, half vampire subspecies. I can stop my heart and breathing temporarily with only minor side-effects. It’s not a complete death. If I were in The Princess Bride, Miracle Max would still have hope for me. It’s, you know, just a _little_ death.”

“Just an orgasm,” Pidge snorted.

Lance shrugged, smiling. “You can see why I like the pun.”

“Guys, seriously,” Shiro said, cutting through. “It’s breakfast time. Have this conversation _after_ we’re done eating.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Shiro? You wanted to talk?” Lance hopped up onto the table and swung his legs around to face Shiro. “If this is about making you uncomfortable earlier, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it. I mean, apology accepted, but that’s not why I wanted to talk.” Shiro sighed, running a hand down his face. “Just… I don’t want any details regarding your sex life, but I want to know if you’re being safe.”

“…what, seriously?” Lance tilted his head. “I mean… really? Why _now?_ You never asked before when it was me and Keith.”

“I asked Keith, because I knew him better than you,” Shiro told him. “He said some strange things that I now realize were about him covering for you in some way, but the second fact of the matter is that… well, as much as I hate to admit it, there’s a risk with Allura that you didn’t have with Keith.”

 “You mean pregnancy.”

Shiro shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “You and Keith are both living proof of interspecies relationships producing children. It’s not impossible to think that you could… have an accident.”

“Shiro, that’s not… it won’t happen.” Lance looked away, rubbing at the back of his head. “I’m… my body is genetically programmed to make sex as easy, enjoyable, and _safe_ as possible for all involved parties. I’m basically designed to fuck.”

“Lance—”

“No, wait, let me finish.” Lance held up a hand and sucked in a deep breath. Shiro didn’t try to interrupt. “That means… a couple of things. I’ll go through them all, since you’re concerned about safety. I’m… I’m anally self-lubricating when necessary, which is why Keith and I didn’t need lube at first; I just always bottomed for the sake of…. Yeah, that. My body absorbs semen and converts it into energy instead of having to clean out. I don’t have a gag reflex. I have _instincts_ that tell me where the most sensitive erogenous zones are, even for species I’ve never encountered before. I can’t contract STDs, and my body purges them so that I can’t even _carry_ them for very long. And… I can control my own fertility. I’m not… my default is actually for any cum to be useless in that sense, because that’s what’s safest for everyone involved.”

He looked up to see Shiro with his arms crossed, looking uncomfortable, but nonetheless listening.

“Concubi… we can have children. That’s not impossible, or even difficult. But it’s something that’s avoided whenever possible, because we have really, _really_ long lives, and raising concubus or part-concubus children is difficult as hell for non-concubi. Getting some random person _pregnant?_ That’s… you either leave them to miscarry because they don’t know how to handle a child that’s part-concubus, especially if they’re _vegetarian_ or something, like… nobody’s going to just _intuitively know_ that they need to drink blood during the pregnancy, right? Or you stay and explain, and then take the child, which just isn’t a feasible option with the amount of sex that the average concubus needs to survive. That would be… _so_ many children.”

Lance took another deep breath. “Anyway, the point is that you don’t need to worry about me getting anyone pregnant. I’m not… that’s not a concern. Thank god. I’m too young for kids. _I’m_ still a kid! If I want to expose myself to small people, I have my siblings. And out here there’s Pidge, I guess? I’m getting distracted. My point is that you don’t need to worry about my sexual safety. Trust me, if there’s anyone on this ship that knows safe sex, it’s me.”

Shiro just kept looking at him, to the point where Lance was starting to feel uncomfortable. Then he sighed and stepped forward, reaching out to ruffle Lance’s hair.

“Um?”

“You’re a good kid,” Shiro said. “And I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I just don’t want to see you…”

“Making a mistake?” Lance suggested.

“Getting into a situation with no simple solution,” Shiro corrected, moving his hand to rest on Lance’s shoulder. “A pregnancy with a random person back on Earth would have been one thing, but we’re in a war, in space, and that’s just… a lot easier to handle without complications of this type. Without condoms or any other kind of contraceptive being easily available, I felt like I needed to check.”

“I know. You don’t need to worry,” Lance assured him. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Allura’s got her own preventatives going on?”

“I understand,” Shiro sighed. “Just… be careful? Even with everything else, just…”

“I promise I won’t get anyone pregnant while we’re fighting a war in space,” Lance said, hopping off the table and turning to head for the door. “And probably not even when we get home, either, at least for a few years.”

“Well, even if you did, you’ve got a whole family to help you figure things out, right?” Shiro patted him on the back. “That’s something.”

“Yeah, they probably wouldn’t even notice another brat running around,” Lance mused. “Then again, aliens would be new enough to get _some_ attention…”

o.o.o.o.o

“Lance?” Coran called. “If I could have a word with you?”

 _Oh shit_ , Lance thought. _Is he going to give me the shovel talk? He might give me the shovel talk. Shit. I don’t want a shovel talk from_ Coran. _He’s secretly terrifying and we all know it. Fuck._

“Sure thing! What’s up?”

“We need to go down to the med bay to get your baseline vitals and such recorded,” Coran said, and Lance felt himself relaxing, just a tad. “If you need a pod or anything else while in this form, it’ll be fast with a recording of what your form is like when healthy.”

“Makes sense. Do I, uh, have to go _into_ one of the pods again?” Lance fell into step with Coran, walking down towards the med bay.

“Yes.”

“…quiznak,” Lance muttered. “Just a few minutes, right?”

Coran’s face filled with sympathetic amusement. “Yes, Lance. Just a few minutes.”

“I can do that,” Lance said, more to himself than to Coran.

They made it down to the med bay in mostly silence, and Lance felt increasingly awkward as time passed.

“In you go,” Coran said, gesturing at the pod. “Step in and I’ll scan you, and see about calibrating it for the future.”

“Awesome,” Lance sighed. “Don’t suppose this does anything about malnutrition or low quintessence levels, by the way?”

Coran quirked a brow. “I’m afraid not. You’ll need to keep drinking blood as you have, Lance.”

“Worth a shot,” Lance muttered, tucking his wings in close and stepping in.

“Are all your demonic appendages in evidence?” Coran asked.

“Yep, everything’s shifted out and over,” Lance said. “Even the fangs.”

Granted, he’d clicked them back to rest against the roof of his mouth, but they were there.

“Breathing? Heartbeat?”

Lance had to check for that one. “Yeah, everything’s working.”

“I’ll lower the cap on the pod now,” Coran warned, and Lance steeled himself against the mounting panic that the pods brought. Coran knew what he was doing. The pods weren’t here to kill him, but to help.

Everything whited out for a long, hazy moment.

Then the pod opened.

“And there we are! Quick as a tick!” Coran said, catching Lance as he fell out of the pod.

“I hate those things,” Lance muttered, stepping over to the bench and taking a heavy seat. Coran took a seat next to him and patted him on the back.

“Well, now we have a healthy profile for you if you ever need to use the pods again,” Coran assured him. “Which I would prefer you do the next time you need one.”

“Um.”

“Lance,” Coran said, hand moving to his shoulder and squeezing. “I understand why you kept your species a secret, going by your stories. I believe you expected that Pidge or Shiro would react to you as Allura did to Keith, correct?”

“Not, uh, not exactly?” Lance winced. “But… when Shiro asked if me being an incubus posed a danger to anyone else… that’s the kind of thing I meant. He laid off after he got the answer, but it’s a really, um, pervasive idea, back home. That we can’t be trusted to keep our hands to ourselves, basically.”

“I see,” Coran said, and God help him, Lance was pretty sure he _did_. “I truly do understand why you were reluctant to tell the team what you are, Lance, but—”

Lance curled in on himself.

“You put yourself in a lot of danger by doing this, my boy,” Coran sighed, squeezing his shoulder again.

“And I put the others in danger too, I know.” Lance dropped his head forward and brought his hands up to lace together at the back of his neck. Slowly, his demonic attributes faded back into his body. They were… too big for this. His emotions and his body weren’t matching up, not unless he had the option of using his wings to make walls against the world.

“You think so?” Coran asked.

“I _know_ so. Hunk and Keith,” Lance said, gesturing at them in their own med bay pods. “They wouldn’t have gotten hurt if we’d been able to form Voltron as fast as usual, or if we’d been able to keep things running as smoothly as we normally did. I was hiding things, and people _knew_ I was hiding things, and it wasn’t just keeping things _private_ at that point, not anymore. It was secret-keeping, and it was reducing our effectiveness, especially since I dragged Keith and Hunk into my mess.”

Coran was silent for a few moments. “I can’t deny that. If you’d told the team of your circumstances earlier, then much of this could have been avoided. However, I was referring to the injuries you’ve hidden due to your fear of the team’s potential response, and the fact that you allowed yourself to get ill because you couldn’t drink enough blood. I’m referring to the fact that you willingly starved yourself of a crucial element of your diet in favor of keeping your secret safe.”

Lance dragged his hands down from behind his neck and to his face. “I know.”

The silence stretched out, tight and brittle. The castle breathed around them, with the near-silent but ever-present machinery whirring along behind the walls.

“I am…disappointed that you didn’t at least think to confide in me,” Coran finally said. “I didn’t have the preexisting prejudices that you were worried about, and I had _thought_ that you would trust me to have your well-being in mind.”

Lance sucked in a breath.

“…your heart stopped again,” Coran told him gently.

Lance couldn’t bring up the focus or energy to restart it the usual way, so he just slammed a fist into his chest and used that as a jumping-off point for the rest.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, after his heart had taken up a normal beat again. “For not telling you.”

“I worried,” Coran said. “Especially after we spoke atop your lion. You told me plenty about why the secret was hurting you and causing you distress, and why you didn’t want to share it, but you still didn’t tell me what was wrong or different. I could have helped, Lance. Even if you’d insisted on continuing to hide from the rest of the team, I could have supported you at the times when you needed it.”

Lance shut his eyes tight and grit his teeth, willing himself to not cry. His hands curled up, nails digging into his hands. “I’m—”

“Don’t,” Coran sighed, pulling Lance into a hug with one arm and using his free hand to drag Lance’s fists away from his face, forcing the fingers open so that he’d stop hurting himself. “Don’t apologize again, and don’t do _that_.”

“I…” Lance started, and then snapped his mouth shut. No apologizing. Right. “I’ll try not to do this sort of thing again?”

“Which one?”

“The… keeping secrets that are hurting me one?” Lance’s voice reached new pitches towards the end of the sentence as he hunched in on himself.

“I’d appreciate it if you also stopped hurting yourself when trying to suppress an emotion,” Coran said, bringing the hand that had been uncurling Lance’s fingers up to complete the hug. “You get hurt enough as a paladin, my boy. You don’t need to add to that.”

Lance dug his fingers into the fabric of his pants, wishing he had a shirt or jacket to play with the hem of. “I guess.”

“Lance, just… just _trust_ me. I am here in many capacities as royal advisor, but I am, beyond all that, a mentor to the paladins, and I do not believe it unprofessional to admit that I hold a fondness for you. I care about your wellbeing as more than just your medical officer,” Coran squeezed the hug a little tighter. “The fact that you didn’t feel like you could trust me with this means that I’ve done _something_ to make you believe that you can’t.”

“What? No! No, no, _god_ no! It definitely wasn’t anything _you_ did,” Lance protested, pulling away to stare Coran in the face in mild horror. “God no, this is all on me and _my_ trust issues about my heritage. I do trust you, Coran, it’s just… hard.” He deflated as he finished the sentence, dropping the words like bricks into water. “To move past a lifetime of all… that.”

“I understand, Lance, but…” Coran sighed again. “ _Tell me_ next time. You could have been dying, and we never would have even known.”

“I…” _don’t apologize_ “I didn’t…”

Lance couldn’t get out a full sentence, could barely manage a few scattered words as he stared.

Coran pulled him into a hug again, and whispered, “Don’t _scare_ me like that again, child.”

And Lance started crying.

o.o.o.o.o

They walked back together, side by side.

“By the way, Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance tilted his head and looked over.

“You are a very good person, and I would trust you with my life. I care for you very much. However, if you hurt Allura…”

Lance’s head snapped forward, and he sucked in a breath as his heart started racing. _Oh shit, the shovel talk._

“I will be very disappointed in you.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Glad we understand each other!” Coran clapped him on the back with a smile and went on ahead.

It took Lance a few minutes to move again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title is a pun. No, I'm not sorry.


	12. We Can Finally Say That Shit Has Been Handled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hunk and Keith come out of the pods, Shiro holds a ~~family~~ team meeting, and the first arc comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: mentions of lack of consent in a discussion about the necessity of it, mentions of heats/mating cycles.

Lance sat cross-legged on the floor, Pidge in his lap. He kept his eyes focused on the med bay pods even as his hands braided bits of Pidge’s hair. His wings were out and spread just enough to avoid bending awkwardly against the ground. The rest of his demonic attributes were in full evidence as well.

“How much longer?” He asked, the tension getting to him. The only reason his leg wasn’t bouncing, honestly, was that it would make Pidge uncomfortable.

“You’ve been asking every few doboshes, Lance,” Allura sighed. “Just a bit longer, I promise.”

“Hunk’s getting out first, right?”

“As I said the last five times, yes. I’d say that we’re lucky they’re finishing up at such close times.” Allura took a seat on the bench and let her hand rest on Lance’s head, right between the horns.

“You sure just being like this is the best way to tell them we know now?” Pidge asked, fiddling with Lance’s tail.

“Like ripping off a band-aid,” Lance said. “So…”

“Not yet,” Allura sighed.

Lance tipped his head back to look at her. “Sorry.”

“You’re worried,” Shiro said. “We all are, but we know by now that they’re okay. The pods are good at what they were designed to do.”

“I know,” Lance whined. “I don’t like waiting, though.”

“You’re a _sniper_ ,” Pidge said, disgust in her voice. “Shouldn’t you be used to waiting in complete stillness for the right shot?”

“I can _do_ it,” Lance explained. “I just don’t _like_ it. Somebody distract me. I need a thing to focus on.”

Allura leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. There was a hint of tongue, just enough to tease, and then she was sitting up again, turning back to the datapad in her hands.

“Did that work?” She asked, voice mild.

“That is still just… so unnerving,” Shiro muttered.

Lance turned to look at him. “What is?”

“You and Allura.” He gestured at them. “Together. Considering how your dynamic used to be, this is just a bit… twilight zone.”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, well… shit happens.”

“Obviously,” Pidge muttered.

“By the way, Princess,” Lance said, tipping his head back again and grinning at Allura. “That was a nice distraction, can I have another?”

“Not while I’m sitting on you!” Pidge yelled.

Allura looked at Pidge and then at Lance. “I think I agree with Pidge on this. Apologies.”

“Boo,” Lance said, pouting. He wrapped his arms around Pidge and squeezed, ignoring her squawk of protest. "Guess I just gotta cuddle the short shit.”

“You ass!”

“Language, both of you,” Shiro reprimanded, seemingly more on reflex than anything else.

“I love you too, you little gremlin,” Lance laughed as he squeezed Pidge a little tighter. She half-heartedly struggled, but years with little siblings meant that Lance had learned how to recognize when someone _actually_ wanted to get out of a hug, and when they were just playing at wrestling.

“You know,” Shiro said, drawing their attention. “At this point I really have to ask: are gremlins real?”

“…not quite? There are creatures that would probably fall under the definition, but almost all of them identify as modern versions of English folkloric imps,” Lance explained. “Which is why I go with gremlin, instead of an actual species, because using an actual species name as an insult would be an asshole move.”

“Of course,” Pidge muttered, letting her head fall back to thump against Lance’s chest. “Because you clearly avoid being an asshole whenever possible.”

“Obviously,” Lance sniffed. He almost said more, but a hissing noise alerted him to the fact that one of the med bay pods was opening. He sat up straight, practically thrumming, as his eyes focused in on Hunk’s pod and the mist that was escaping from it.

Coran rushed into the room and stood by as Hunk came out of the pod, catching him before he fell.

“Whoa, head rush,” Hunk mumbled. “How long was I in for?”

“A week,” Lance answered, and Hunk looked up to see him and Pidge.

For a long moment, naked confusion played across his face, followed by realization, a short panic, and then calm.

“So everyone knows now?”

“They got the whole story, yeah.” Lance tucked his head down behind Pidge’s, peeking over the top of her hair. “Yay?”

“I’m going to assume everything went well, in which case, _I told you so._ ” Hunk said, though his raised eyebrow prompted Lance to nod anyway. Hunk shook his head. “I just spent a week in a healing pod. Come hug me and tell me how the battle ended.”

Lance scrambled to his feet, taking just a moment to make sure Pidge didn’t tumble to the ground, and threw himself into Hunk’s arms. Sure, Lance then needed to make sure Hunk didn’t _fall_ , after a moment, but that was what he had his demon strength for, right?

His wings cocooned around them for a moment, and Lance buried his face in Hunk’s neck. He took a deep breath and told himself, _he’s safe, he’s safe, he’s okay._

“I’d say I missed you too, but I was pretty much asleep that whole time,” Hunk joked, patting Lance’s back. “The med bay pods do their jobs, dude.”

“I still worry,” Lance said, pouting. He pressed a short kiss to Hunk’s neck. “You’re important to me, bro. Of course I worry. You were in there for a _week_.”

“I guess I can get that. I was pretty worried after Sendak, and you were only in there for a few days,” Hunk muttered.

“Besides, it was my fault you were in there in the first place,” Lance reminded him. “Haggar wouldn’t have gotten you guys if Voltron was faster, and Voltron wouldn’t have been lagging if I hadn’t been panicking over my secrets.”

“Lance…”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, squeezing Hunk a little tighter.

“That’s not… you know what, sure. But you fixed that problem, right? So everything’s good now. I accept your apology.” Hunk squeezed back. “Now I can stop worrying about your shit, and you can stop worrying about me in the pod.”

“Okay,” Lance said, pressing closer and hugging Hunk as tightly as he dared. “Sorry, again. For getting you hurt and for forcing you to put up with my shit.”

“Lance, just… stop.” Hunk sighed. “It’s all done with now, right?”

“Yeah…” Lance drooped.

“Okay, I think everyone else wants to see that I’m okay too,” Hunk said, patting him on the shoulder. “C’mon, dude.”

Lance felt the urge to squeeze harder and refuse to let anyone else take Hunk away, or maybe just toss Hunk over his shoulder and run out of the room, hide him away somewhere to be pampered and perfect and _safe_ , but that was just the vampire in him talking. He pushed down the instincts and stepped away, lacing his hands together in front of himself and bouncing on his toes as the others came over and looked Hunk over, giving out their own hugs.

That… didn’t bother him. Lance tilted his head, watching them all with consideration. Huh. They were safe. Secure. They were part of what the not-quite-human in him considered safe and _his_. They couldn’t steal each other away from him, because they were already all his, just as important to him as any friend or family could be.

 _Mine_ , the vampire part of him whispered, satisfied with that one word. _If somebody hurts what’s mine, I’ll rip them to shreds._

Lance shook his head to snap himself out of that state, and just let himself relax as he watched his friends come to the conclusion that everything was indeed fine. After a moment, he glanced back at Keith’s pod, and considered the Altean writing. He wasn’t any good at reading it, but he was pretty sure that there were only a handful of ticks left.

With a jump and a single flap of his wings, he leapt to the top of the pod, most of his weight on his hands, as his sneakers pressed down on the sides of the tapered top of the pod, and his knees hung out around his ears as he hunched down. He leaned forward, knowing that he didn’t have gravity on his side (but he did have magic, and wasn’t that all that really mattered?) and waited for the pod to open up, tail sliding slowly through the air and wings spread wide for balance.

“Please refrain from scaring Keith,” Coran muttered to him, checking on the timer. “And that pod cover is going to dematerialize, so please get off of there before you fall _onto_ Keith.”

“I like being in high places,” Lance defended himself. “Perching on things is nice.”

“It’s the demon in him,” Hunk tossed in, with a melodramatic sigh.

“Listen, have you seen the rocks and cliffs in hell? I mean, I’ve only _visited_ , when Marisol snuck me over, but they’re the only things to sit on, so we all need to have the balance and flexibility to, well, _perch_.”

“Your sister took you to _hell?”_ Pidge asked, sounding simultaneously scandalized and interested. “How old were you?”

“Like… eleven? I don’t know. She was babysitting, and I think she kind of ran out of ideas of fun stuff to do, so she took me to hell for a field trip.” Lance shrugged. “Hey, I’m part demon, remember? I was fine. Met some cool people. Mari got yelled at by Mamá when we came home, though. I think Tío Roberto nearly shat himself laughing.”

“They yelled more the time she tried to take me,” Hunk informed everyone. “I think she forgot I’m just a normal human and kind of assumed I’d be fine.”

“I _think_ she was recovering from finals week and too sleep-deprived to think properly,” Lance admitted. “Sorry, dude.”

“Which degree was she working on, again?”

“I think that was the… microbiology one? She starts a new one every time she saves up enough money. I can’t remember all of them.” Lance shifted in place. “She was working on a Master’s in biochem when we left.”

“You’d like her, Pidge,” Hunk said, thinking. “She’s really smart, but I’m pretty sure she’s got a rap sheet longer than my arm.”

“You’ve got long arms,” Pidge said, eyeing them like she was trying to imagine the rap sheet. “What did she get arrested for?”

“Weird shit,” Lance said, nodding. “Weird-ass, unbelievable shit. She usually got off, too. I don’t think she’s ever even had to post bail, because the police are usually too amused or confused to actually press charges, or because she didn’t even break the law in the first place, just did something unnerving and weird.”

“Didn’t she get out of a few by way of self-defense?” Hunk asked.

“Yes! I remember that one! I mean, it was legit, but holy fuck, that fight was _brutal_.” Lance shuddered. “I love Marisol, but watching that was just… wow. Remind me to never get in her way when she’s pissed off at s—”

Keith’s pod beeped.

Lance froze, then pushed off and flapped as hard as he could to get to the ceiling before the pod cover dematerialized. He landed on a rafter and turned to watch what was going on below with curiosity, crouching down again.

Shiro was the one to catch Keith, one arm across his chest and the other at his shoulder. “Hey.”

Keith took a few moments to regain his footing and look up, squinting. “Shiro?”

“Yeah.”

Keith looked back at the pod, and then frowned at the floor. “Haggar was there.”

“Yeah. You and Hunk just spent a week in the pods,” Shiro explained, guiding Keith over to the bench. He seemed a little less stable than Hunk did. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Woozy. Tired.” He rolled his shoulders, frowning. “Everything else feels okay.”

“Good,” Allura said. “We were all a little concerned.”

Keith looked around the room, then frowned. His eyes tracked over everyone again, brow furrowing further. Lance was pretty sure there was a hint of alarm on his face too.

“Where’s Lance?”

“Brooding in the rafters,” Pidge said.

“I’m not _brooding!”_ Lance protested, aghast.

Keith looked up at him and blinked. “You have your wings out.”

“Yeah.”

“…everybody knows, huh?” Keith laughed a little. “You finally told?”

“It kinda just… came out,” Lance admitted. “A little violently. I may have accidentally stabbed myself.”

Keith blinked at him. “You have your wings out, and you’re brooding in the rafters.”

“Pidge already made the gargoyle joke,” Lance warned him.

“Lance…” Keith said slowly, and then more insistently added, “Lance, you’re Batman.”

Lance pursed his lips together as that processed and the humans on the ground started laughing.

“It’s not that funny,” he said, but the grin curled over his face nonetheless.

“It’s kind of funny,” Hunk told him.

“It’s hilarious,” Pidge insisted. “You currently look like you’re part bat, and you’re brooding in dark hidey-places like a real Wayne. You’re Batman.”

Lance tipped forward and flew to the ground, landing in front of Keith. “I hate you all.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but hugged back when Lance wrapped his arms around him. Lance pressed his nose into Keith’s neck and breathed in. _Safe, safe, safe._

It was a little surprising when Keith sniffed him too, but maybe that was the Galra in him coming forward. They stayed like that for a few long moments, and if Lance pressed a few closed-mouth kisses to Keith’s neck and nipped at the skin more than was strictly necessary, nobody was going to tell.

“Lance?” Keith said, voice a little odd.

“Mm-hm?”

“Did you sleep with Allura or something?”

Lance pulled back and gaped at him. “How the _hell_ did you figure that out so quickly?”

“You smell like her,” Keith said, blinking. Then he frowned. “Wait, is this going to be a regular thing?”

“Y—I mean, wait, how did you—? Your sense of smell is _that_ good now? I definitely showered after we slept together!” Lance protested.

“You _what?”_ Hunk demanded, looking between Lance and Allura. “Wait, _what?”_

“She instigated,” Lance immediately said.

“I’m not going to doubt that, I’m just asking _how?”_ Hunk looked very confused. Lance felt kind of sorry about that.

Lance looked at Hunk for a moment, then turned to catch Allura’s eyes.

He wiggled his ears.

“Stop,” she said, but her cheeks went red anyway. “Just… stop.”

“Seriously?” Keith asked in disbelief. “It was all about the ears?”

“It wasn’t _just_ the ears,” Allura protested. “The new shape simply… helped.”

“We had a long talk about it earlier to make sure we were both comfortable with everything on all levels,” Lance said, drawing attention. “Everything is consensual, and nobody’s getting taken advantage of.”

An odd expression crossed Hunk’s face, something worried and indecisive, but it cleared after a moment. He nodded at Lance. “Okay. I don’t know what went on, but if you both say it’s okay, then it’s okay.”

Keith was pouting when Lance turned back to him. It was a subtle pout, mostly, but… actually, no, it wasn’t subtle at all.

“What?” Lance asked. If this was going to turn into some jealousy thing…

“Nothing,” Keith said, then rolled his eyes and put a hand over Lance’s mouth when he started to call him out on it. “Okay, it’s something, but it’s not something I want to talk about here. We can talk later. It’s not a big deal, just me being petty.”

Lance gaped when Keith removed his hand. “Did… did you just admit to being petty?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Don’t push it, Álvarez.”

With a snort of laughter, Lance leaned forward and hugged Keith again, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Now, I’m hoping the answer to this is either a truthful ‘no,’ or an explanation, since recent events have made it clear that some of us haven’t felt comfortable with sharing personal details that may have been better off shared.” Shiro took a deep breath. “Does _anyone_ have any health-related or similar concerns that the rest of us should be made aware of sooner rather than later?”

Pidge shrugged. “Hunk and I have been trying to work out how to make puberty blockers and synthetic hormones so we can do HRT safely? But that’s not really going anywhere yet, and once it does we’re probably going to need Coran’s help to make sure it’s safe.”

Hunk pointed at Pidge. “Yeah, that.”

Shiro nodded and turned to Lance and Keith. There was a long moment of silence.

“I infodumped most of my shit on you the other day,” Lance said. “I mean, there are still _details_ missing, but they’re just personal things you don’t _need_ to know.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Watch your language, please, and given what you previously assumed I don’t need to know abo—”

“Do you want me to make you uncomfortable with random minutiae? I mean, I kind of already _did,_ yesterday, when you tried to lecture me on safe sex.” Lance stood up and leaned forward, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m… pretty sure you did more lecturing than I did,” Shiro said, blinking slowly.

Lance tilted his head. “Yeah that’s fair.”

“Does _anyone_ have anything to add?” Shiro asked. There was a long, heavy silence, and then he sighed. “Guys, I’m sorry for pushing. But right now, I want to make sure we don’t end up with another paladin going through some medical crisis or starving because we weren’t comfortable enough with one another to share personal information.”

“Um…”

Shiro turned at the sound. “Keith?”

Keith tilted his head, apparently thinking. “It’s not a… potential crisis? And I told Coran since he’s in charge of our medical stuff?”

“Is it something we’d be better off knowing?” Shiro prompted.

“Well, yeah. I was planning on telling you. I’ve just been… trying to figure out how to bring it up.” Keith sat up a little straighter. “But I guess now works?”

Shiro gestured for him to continue.

“So… Galra have heats after a certain age, and since I’m a hybrid, there’s a flip-of-the-coin chance that I’ll have one.” Keith dropped his gaze to his hands, clasped on top of the table. “Galra hybrids aren’t super common, but there have been enough to know that it’s not really predictable. There are suppressants that can take it down from three times a year to once a year, but they have some side-effects, so the Blade of Marmora don’t want to put me on them unless I actually show signs of going through heats too.”

Lance glanced over at Coran, who nodded. Okay, cool. So everything was true, and Coran had already known.

“What’s it going to entail?” Shiro asked, his voice level. “Anything we need to prepare for?”

“I was hoping to talk to Lance, first…” Keith sighed. “If I do have one, then there’s definitely going to be, like, waves, I guess? Of enhanced arousal. And in between there are periods of extreme affection with pretty much everyone in sight that’s considered friend or family. The whole thing passes faster with sex, but it’s pretty easy to get through without, apparently? I wouldn’t be desperate or anything, but I’d… probably have to sit out on training due to an inability to focus?”

He looked over at Coran too, seemingly at a loss for words.

“A Galra heat is fairly typical for species that experience estrus among all genders,” Coran said. “What Keith has said so far is more or less accurate, though the inability to focus is a result of a more generally hazy mental state.”

“I’d still be able to give or refuse consent, from what I understood,” Keith added. “But if I end up going through this, then I kind of want to make sure all the negotiation is taken care of _before_ it starts, just in case it leaves me less, uh…”

“Cognizant?” Coran suggested.

“Yeah, that. Less… _that_ than expected.” Keith rested his elbows on the table and dug his fingers into his own hair. “It… I should still be able to form Voltron, if it’s necessary. And fight, too. I mean, on average, apparently? Some Galra have it hit harder, but I should be okay.”

“And you wanted to talk to Lance because sexual activity acts as a catalyst to end the heat early,” Allura said, not so much a question as a prompt for confirmation.

“I mean… basically?” Keith shot a look Lance’s way. “I’d be fine _without_ , but I figured it wouldn’t be too weird to ask if it’s okay with you?”

Lance blinked at him. “Out of curiosity, how much does the heat affect your ability to handle rejection?”

“Lance!” Shiro said, voice sharp.

“Not much,” Keith said, apparently less offended than Shiro. “I know how important consent is; I made sure to ask.”

Lance nodded, and then looked over at Shiro. “I know why you got mad, but just… I’ve known species with heats and other enhanced arousal-type shit before. In most cases, a person’s ability to take no for an answer is only minimally affected; someone who’d normally just agree to skip the night might whine about it instead of just backing off, but won’t push or force the matter. There are a few species where… well, I _think_ they’re just using it as an excuse for violating someone’s bodily autonomy, but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”

Shiro’s jaw snapped shut, and after a look at Keith, he closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. Still getting used to the… variety of experience you have.”

“ _Variety_ ,” Pidge whispered with a laugh.

“Shiro?” Lance said, something in his chest twisting a little.

“Sorry. I just… I should have realized that you weren’t implying something awful about Keith just for the hell of it.” He dropped his hand. “I should have expected you to have actual concerns, not just poking fun at sensitive issues.”

Lance shrugged. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t like it if someone implied the same sort of thing about Hunk for seemingly no reason. But back to the main point?” He turned back to Keith. “Yeah, I’ll help you through the heat if you get one, dude.”

“Lance…” Keith looked him right in the eye, eyes almost imploring. He put a hand over his heart. “Lance, that’s _gay_.”

Lance dropped his head to the table and laughed helplessly, unable to stop the giggles. “Why is that still so fucking funny?”

“Uh…” Pidge looked between the two of them, and then over at Shiro. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“I think the joke is that we’re all incredibly queer and they’re still somehow pretending that their openly same-sex friends-with-benefits arrangement is a big deal.” Shiro tilted his head. “Lance? Are you okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he laughed. “That’s just… it’s right up with the musical thing.”

“Oh god,” Hunk whispered, bringing a hand up to his face. It didn’t quite hide his smile. “Lance, no.”

“What musical thing?” Allura asked.

Lance sat straight up and put a hand to chest, feigning outrage and offence. “ _Gays?_ In _my_ musical?”

“It’s more likely than you think,” Hunk tacked on gravely, something he ruined a moment later by giggling and holding out his hand for Lance to high-five.

This time, Keith was the one to have trouble stifling his laughter.

Shiro shook his head. “So is that everyone? Are there any other medical or other issues we may need to worry about?”

“Nah, dude. I think we’re good.” Lance said, not looking away from where he was poking a giggling Keith’s shoulder.

“I have a scanning device from the Blade of Marmora that should be able to confirm if Keith _is_ in a Galra heat should he start displaying symptoms,” Coran said.

“Why? Are the early symptoms easy to mistake for something else?” Shiro asked.

“There are… certain substances that can induce some, though not all, of the symptoms of a heat in Galra,” Coran said delicately, as though each word were a piece of fine china. “It isn’t entirely likely that Keith will run into them, but some of them are used recreationally, so there’s always a chance we’ll run into them by happenstance.”

“If he gets high, drugged, or roofied, it might look like a heat, so you gotta check. Got it.” Pidge nodded. “Makes sense.”

Shiro gave her a look, but didn’t say anything this time. He just turned back to the table at large. “Alright. Paladins, dismissed. Princess, I think you said something about some empire supply routes you wanted to look over with me?”

“Awesome,” Lance said, getting to his feet and clapping. “Now that that’s done, I think Keith and I have some shit to talk about.”

He didn’t look over his shoulder to see if Keith followed him out. Lance could sense him well enough.

o.o.o.o.o

“Okay, so _what_ is the issue with me sleeping with Allura?” Lance demanded once they were in the safety of his room. “You’ve had zero issue with me sleeping around with other people until now.”

“I know,” Keith said, and damn him, he looked amused. “It’s not actually a big deal.”

“Get off my bed, Keith. You’re still in your gross clothes.”

Keith took off his pants and jacket instead, which… sure. Good enough.

“Do I get an answer for why you got all pouty and shit?”

“She’s on the ship. The others weren’t.” Keith made a face. “I think I’m still a little resentful of what happened after I found out I was part Galra, too, but that’s not really relevant.”

“What the hell does Allura being on the ship have to do with anything?” Lance asked.

“The others were one-night stands. You… _implied_ that sleeping with her would probably be a long-term arrangement, like us. And I say it’s not a big deal because I don’t actually have any legitimate claim on your time. So if you end up sleeping with her on half of the nights that you might have spent with me before, that’s… I mean, it’s annoying to me, personally, but it’s not actually a big deal.” Keith shrugged. “I wouldn’t even say it’s jealousy, just some disappointment that I don’t even want to admit to, since, as I said, I don’t actually have a legitimate ‘claim’ or whatever to your time.”

Lance narrowed his eyes a little, and then poked Keith in the chest. “When did you got and get all mature about sex and interpersonal relationships? What have you done with Keith?”

He batted Lance’s hand away. “You think I could listen to all your lectures on the nature of consent and whatever _without_ learning something? I was top of our class at the Garrison, Lance. Give me _some_ credit.”

“Threesomes are an option, you know,” Lance reminded him.

“She’s a girl and I’m hella gay. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with that, or that she’d be comfortable with me.”

Lance shrugged. “I mean, it’s up to you, but you wouldn’t have to fuck each other, just me. I like spitroasting, it’s fun.”

“Oh my god, Lance,” Keith put a hand over his face, smushing his nose but utterly failing to hide his smile. He peeked out at Lance between his fingers. “How the fuck do you even say shit like that?”

“Magic.” Lance stuck out his tongue and, after a moment’s thought, leaned forward and licked a stripe up Keith’s neck, earning himself a shove and a squirming half-Galra. He laughed as the playful wrestling that ensued had the two of them rolling around on top of Lance’s bed, and resulted in Keith pinning Lance facedown on the bed.

“Say uncle!”

“Never!”

Keith leaned down and pressed his lips to Lance’s ear, feather-light. Something else pressed down against Lance’s ass, nowhere near as light, and definitely not as soft.

“Say it,” he breathed out.

“How about,” Lance suggested, tail snaking out and undoing the button of Keith’s jeans, “you get me to say something else tonight instead, ‘top of our class?’”

Keith seemed to like that idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway! There's the closing to Act One! There's two more arcs to go after this. Next chapter is mostly doing basic structuring for future chapters, but after that we get into the meat of Act 2.
> 
> The whole "Lance, that's GAY" and "Gays? In MY musical?" joke are both stolen from the stage manager of the last musical I was in. The joke was mostly made at me because of how incredibly flirty I was with a fellow castmember who also happened to be a girl (she's bi, I'm aroace, SM is... pan? I think?). We had like one and a half straight people in a cast+crew of like... ten, so the joke was basically just pretending to be astounded at the queerness when most of us were, in fact, queer.
> 
> Also, I'm going to my college graduation ceremony today! Yay! *blows kazoo*


	13. Scarlet Pimpernel and Walnut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of magic in the air...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the beginning of the second arc. It's a bit of an odd one, and will be introducing several OCs (family members back on Earth, mostly) in upcoming chapters. This arc is also going to have a different naming schema for the chapter titles: flowers whose meanings have something to do with the content (mostly in Victorian flower language, but a handful will cross over into Hanakotoba if it's a Shiro chapter, since this arc features him a little more, especially early on).
> 
> I'll be using this site: http://www.languageofflowers.com/flowermeaning.htm

“I can’t believe you went and fixed your stuff instead of just getting new clothes,” Pidge said, in lieu of complaining about having to stretch again.

“Hey, I _like_ my stuff,” Lance told her, in the middle of his own stretches. “Besides, it’s a good jacket for some kinds of dancing.”

“Like…”

“There’s some kinds that are so focused on the lower body, at least for parts, that it makes more sense to just tuck your hands into your jacket pockets for a few dozen bars. Here, I’ll demonstrate.” Lance turned to Hunk. “Put on, uh… ‘Lose Control’?”

“Hedley?”

“Yeah,” Lance rolled his head around for a moment, shaking out his arms. He wouldn’t want to have his hands in his pockets for _all_ of the song, of course, and not here at the beginning, but for the lower-intensity bits… sure, he could do that for a few bars.

“Is that…popping or whatever? Locking? I don’t know dance terms, Lance, what the shit are you doing?”

“That stuff you just said. Maybe isolations? I’m improvising, Pidge, I don’t know. I’m just doing whatever feels right and not paying attention to words,” which was mostly smooth movements with random jerky stops at the moment.

He did a flip when the music picked up, just to show off.

“ _In my body, in my bones, drop the beat and free my soul.”_

Hands in pockets for this section, fast and deliberate foot movements, and then…

“ _I have to let it go, oh my god, I lose control!”_

He went back to doing larger movements, including at least one seconds-long pose with all his weight resting on one hand. Pidge and Hunk clapped obligingly.

The music mellowed just enough for him to minimize his movements, and then immediately flowed into—

“ _Catch me if you can, I don’t think you understand!”_

Hands in pockets again, and then—

“ _In my body, in my bones, drop the beat and free my soul.”_

He could switch out this time, right? Back to larger movements, just enough to keep things interesting, maybe some flairs?

The energy dropped and the music slowed, percussion almost entirely gone, and Lance moved accordingly. It was mostly slow posing for this section, showing off the flexibility and balance and, incongruously for the song, control.

He bent over a little and started snapping as the percussion came back, getting lower to the ground with each beat, and then back up, ending with a leap as the music finally hit full intensity again.

Lance lost himself in the music for the rest of the song.

“Showoff,” Pidge accused at the end.

“Hey, you have your skills, and I have mine. What do you care if I’m a better dancer than you are?”

“I don’t care that you’re better,” Pidge said. “I’m just pointing out that you did a lot of showing off there.”

Lance shrugged and laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “Well… I can’t really argue that.”

“I think Pidge is done stretching, by the way,” Hunk said, standing up. “Me too.”

“Awesome!” Lance bounced on his toes. “Keith, feel like joining us?”

“I don’t dance.”

“Is that don’t or can’t?”

“…can’t,” Keith admitted with a shrug. “You just do your thing, and I’ll watch.”

“I’m sure you will,” Lance said, and turned back to his Garrison friends. “So! Last week was swing. This week, we’re doing salsa.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him. “This is going to murder my hips, isn’t it?”

“Not if you listen to me,” Lance said, pulling her to her feet. “I’m going to demonstrate how to do it solo first, then with Hunk, and then we’re going to switch out so you can try, and once you have it down, we’ll try with music.”

He turned to the side, so they were all facing the same direction. “Okay, so first you step like this…”

When Allura and Shiro stopped by twenty minutes later, apparently having been planning on training, it was to the sight of Pidge glaring at her feet as she tried to make her way through the steps Lance was teaching her.

“Is something wrong?” Allura asked. “Pidge looks… agitated.”

“Dancing is harder than I thought, and I already thought it was hard.”

“What style are you learning?” Shiro asked.

“Salsa,” Lance said.

“I don’t know what that is,” Allura said.

Lance and Hunk looked at each other.

“Hey, Hunk, do you think—”

“Go with the Flow?”

“From Murphy and Wildhorn’s Wonderland?”

“Yeah.”

“I dig it.”

Pidge rolled her eyes and headed for the controls. “I’ll punch it in.”

Lance saw Allura blink in surprise, then look over to see Shiro leaning against the wall. She followed suit. “Are they going to be giving us a demonstration?”

“Looks like,” Shiro answered. “Lance?”

“I promise I won’t make it sexual enough to make you uncomfortable this time,” Lance said immediately.

“That… wasn’t my question, but thank you.” Shiro shook his head. “I was going to ask if Allura and I can join in on these lessons in the future?”

“Yeah? You know how to dance anything?” Lance asked.

“Slow waltzes and breakdancing,” Shiro said, which just… _what_. “I can’t do faster ballroom or swing or Latin dance, though, so these lessons might help.”

“…okay, then.” Lance smirked. “Watch and learn, oh fearless leader.”

And Lance had learned how to salsa (and tango, and waltz, and foxtrot, and—) since he was tall enough to walk, but there was always something to be said for the frantic, hectic energy of Wonderland and the speed with which Hunk responded to Lance’s movements. The guitar broke through the silence, and then they were moving.

Lance had choreographed to this one, back when they were… god, maybe twelve? Thirteen, at the latest. Hunk had agreed to learn the dance in exchange for Lance helping him study some engineering stuff that Lance hadn’t understood. He could read flashcards and ask questions from a thick book, though, and that was enough for Hunk to practice.

He mouthed along to the words as they traipsed around the room, letting his tail out even as the rest of him stayed human. He got closer to Hunk as the song slowed down, and then pulled away to fake playing guitar with his tail as the neck and body of the instrument.

“…i's a guitarra,” he said, matter-of-factly, then dropped the tail (“ _FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT”)_ and let Hunk sweep him back into the dance.

Turn out, turn in, jump up to latch around Hunk’s waist with his legs and let go with his hands so he could keep his arms outstretched as Hunk spun on the spot, come back up, and _pose._

Polite clapping met his ears as the song ended, and Lance laughed as Hunk set him back down on the ground.

“I hate you both,” Pidge declared.

“Aw, you don’t mean that, short shit.” Lance went over and pulled her to her feet again. “Now come on, break’s over.”

“How are you not even _sweating?”_ She whined. “It’s not fair. Is this an incubus thing?”

“No, just practice. I’ve been dancing since I was a kid, Pidge. Ten years before I joined the Garrison, remember?” He took her hands and entered the right position. “Hunk, you get the others started. I’m going to try to run through that one sequence with Pidge again.”

o.o.o.o.o

“You’re working on the violin, right?” Lance asked, taking a seat on the floor and trying to make sure he had everything he needed.

“Duh. We made an agreement, okay, I’m definitely going to hold up my end of it.” Pidge kicked her legs back and forth as she sat on the couch. She leaned forward to look at the papers. “Do we really need all that? Can’t I just take notes on my computer while you talk or something?”

“Nope!” Lance said, popping the ‘p.’

“Why not?” Allura asked, watching from next to Pidge.

“Because a lot of what I _do_ know has to do with hand-drawing and/or herbs. We don’t actually _have_ herbs, or at least not ones that I know how to use, so that leaves us with the wards and summoning, which is mostly runes. I can do tarot, too, but I’d need a deck, which… I don’t have. So. Runes and summoning theory it is.”

“These are the only things for which you can use quintessence?” Allura asked.

“No, but they’re the only ones I can _teach_ you. The rest is all species-dependent.” Lance rubbed the back of his head. “I can demonstrate some of those first, if you want?”

Pidge nodded enthusiastically, eyes bright. She pulled her phone out. “I’m recording!”

Lance winced. “Uh, okay. I don’t want to do mind magics on anyone, so we’re skipping that. You’ve seen the healing magic. Doing any of the fire stuff would be a bad idea, because the smell of sulfur just… it _lingers_ , and it might not bother me, but you’d hate it. So, uh… glamour, I guess?”

“Which is what?” Allura prompted.

“Illusions and disguises, basically. Mostly isolated just to my person. Like, uh…”

“Could you make yourself look Galra?” Pidge asked. “Or Altean?”

Lance closed his eyes and focused. Altean… if he used Allura as a base, then that would be white hair, wouldn’t it? The under-eye markings, which could probably come in any number of colors, so why not the same blue as his lion? And, okay, ears; pointed, but going out horizontally, instead of back and up. Other than that… eyes. Allura and Coran both had this odd little light in the center of their pupils, so he probably needed to at least try to emulate it. That… should be everything.

He sighed out a long breath and let the glamour come over his skin, prickling up and across. He heard Pidge squeal, but focused in more on the sharp gasp from Allura.

“ _Dude_ ,” Pidge whispered in delight when Lance opened his eyes and struck a pose, fingers in a checkmark under his chin as he smirked.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

Allura just stared.

“Uh, Princess?”

She seemed to snap out of it. “That’s… very impressive. If you could mimic the Galra, or a specific member of the army, we could potentially have you infiltrating the ships in the short term.”

“I can only do visual mimicry, though. Like…” Lance let the Altean glamour fall away and focused again, making himself look Galra. “Still sound like myself, no matter how much I look like an army member.”

“Could you look like Sendak?” Pidge asked.

“…why _him?”_ Lance had to ask, looking at her in concern.

“He’s a pretty different size, that arm would be interesting to see copied, and he’s someone we’ve already met,” Pidge rattled off. “That way it’s not like we’re just looking at you as a Galra, but seeing that you can actually mimic specific people.”

“That’s a good point,” Lance admitted. “Just… is anyone else nearby? I don’t want to accidentally trigger a panic attack in someone who happens to walk by.”

Allura pulled out a datapad, ignoring Pidge’s huff of annoyance at not being allowed more tech than just her phone for now. “It seems we’re the only ones in the area.”

“Awesome,” Lance said, and then pulled the glamour up.

It was… odd, every time, to make himself look like someone that was a drastically different size or shape than he was. There was a mild element of dimensional manipulation to some glamours, and it never failed to make him uncomfortable. Lance scowled down at Allura and Pidge through Sendak’s face for a few long moments, taking care to show off the prosthetic arm with the quintessence, and then reverted to his own face.

“Ta-da!” _Jazz hands_.

“Okay, so, that was awesome,” Pidge declared, bouncing. “What else have you got for us, Magic Mike?”

“That’s… that’s not about actual magic, Pidge. That was the name of a movie about the dangers of working as a male stripper,” Lance shifted awkwardly.

“…oh. Well. Uh, I don’t have a snappy response for that.”

“Let’s just move on,” Lance suggested. “Uh, the full vampires have some extensive shapeshifting abilities, like bats and wolves and shit, but other than shifting between human and demon form I’m kind of limited to, well, this.”

He burst into a cloud of smoke.

It was always a little weird, being smoke. He didn’t _see_ so much as _sense_ the world around him, and he curled through the air pretty fluidly for a few long moments before settling back into human form.

“Infiltration,” Allura said immediately, her eyes lighting up. “That’s… that could be useful. Most Galra ships are airtight from the outside, of course, but there are times and places where that could certainly be useful.”

“If you say so,” Lance said.

“Wait, how does it affect your clothes?” Pidge demanded. “That wasn’t just your body; that was you and everything you were wearing, too.”

“…I’m not an expert, Pidge. I just do the thing. You’d have to ask someone older or smarter than me for that answer. Marisol could probably answer it? Tía Rosa, too. I don’t know, it’s like asking me how testosterone works; sure, I know the most basic effects it has on the body, but hell if I know how it’s made or how it actually _works_. I’m not a science person. I’m a pilot and a humanities guy. History, literature, music, dance, that sort of shit.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Humanities, what can you actually teach us, then?”

Lance grinned wide. “I’m glad you asked! I figured we should start with warding, since I’m not half-bad there, and we can actually probably put it to good use on the ship? Like, the ion barrier isn’t _terrible_ , but if we can, like, ward the room with the crystal so that there isn’t a repeat of Sendak or something, then that can only be good, right?”

“Anything I need to know before we start?” Pidge asked.

“It’s pretty math-y, so it should be right up your alley.”

“Math-y how?”

“…so, did you ever watch that old anime, Fullmetal Alchemist? It’s like… fifty or sixty years old, but it was a pretty good one.” Lance bit his lip.

“Are you saying that this is going to be like alchemy?”

“I mean… the _structure_ is definitely reminiscent of it, at least visually? Sometimes?” Lance offered.

Pidge’s eyes lit up. “Let’s do this.”

“First you gotta learn some runes, short shit. You too, Allura!”

o.o.o.o.o

“With Zarkon down, our two biggest worries are as follows: Haggar and Lotor.” Shiro pointed at the screen. “We’ve encountered Haggar before. We know what kind of danger she is. Lotor… not so much.”

“He’s Zarkon’s son and sole heir. He’s most likely only half-Galra, though sources are unclear on the other parent. Given what the princess uncovered regarding Haggar,” Kolivan paused. “It’s plausible that Lotor would be half-Altean.”

“Just what we needed,” Hunk muttered.

“We don’t have much information on either of them, of course,” Allura sighed. “With Haggar, we’ve at least had prior encounters, so we know what she’s capable of and have some idea of how she functions. Lotor… we don’t know much. He’s good at propaganda speeches, by Galra standards. He proved himself powerful by fighting a few rounds in the Arena before revealing himself. We have very little other information.”

“So we don’t want to fight him head on until we have more information,” Shiro said, nodding. “There’s a good chance that Haggar was involved in his education, and if he _is_ part Altean, or even her _son…_ ”

“He might have powers like hers, yes.” Allura sighed. “We simply don’t have enough information.”

“I’m shit at scrying, so that’s not an option,” Lance mumbled. “Do we know anything about his movements?”

“Nothing yet,” Allura said. “It’s very likely that we won’t have any interactions with him unless he chooses to come to us.”

“Damn,” Lance sighed.

“Did you have a suggestion?” Shiro asked. “If we _do_ end up with information on Lotor’s whereabouts at some point…”

Lance shrugged. “Vague half-formed stuff, mostly. I refuse to trance people into sex, but I can pull a Jedi mind trick or two. A kidnapping wouldn’t really be… impossible? Probably really hard anyway, just because of security, but if I got to him at the right time, I could maybe trick or trance him into the ship, and then we could keep him in one of the cryopods or the Blade could take him or something?”

Shiro bit his lip, considering. “It sounds risky, and would put you in more danger than I’m willing to allow for a Plan A. We’ll keep the idea on the backburner, but I’d like to try something a bit more direct before we start sending you in on something like that.”

Lance shrugged. “I mean, there’s also the option of seducing and then poisoning him or something.”

“No,” Shiro said immediately. “I refuse to put you in that position.”

“I…” Lance trailed off, then ducked his head. “Right, sorry. Dumb suggestion.”

“It would _work_ ,” Keith muttered.

“I’m not sending a _teenager_ to seduce one of the most dangerous people in the universe,” Shiro said, his voice hard. “What Lance does on his own time is his own business, but I refuse to consider underage seductions a viable tactic, whether it would work or not.”

“I appreciate it,” Lance spoke up before anyone else could try to weigh in. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t _actually_ sleep with him, just make a lot of empty promises and then poison, but thanks for watching out for me.”

Shiro nodded, lips pursed. “I can live with the… are we calling it the Jedi mind trick option? I can live with that one. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, or anyone else, if we had to rely on you letting yourself be taken advantage of sexually to win the war. That’s just… I refuse. I refuse to sink that low.”

“I know. Thanks.”

An awkward silence lingered in the room, growing denser and less comfortable with every passing moment.

“So, do we just attack supply lines until Lotor comes to fight us or what?” Keith finally asked.

“What, you wanna challenge him to a midnight knife fight in a Denny’s parking lot?” Pidge asked.

“There’s no Denny’s in space, Pidge,” Keith replied with a frown.

“Space Denny’s at two in the morning, then.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “Or the equivalent of such.”

Keith seemed to consider it.

“No one is challenging Lotor to a Denny’s parking lot knife fight,” Shiro said. “Or anything in that vein.”

“I mean… I _could_.” Keith looked like he was getting attached to the idea.

“ _Nobody is dying for a meme_ ,” Shiro ordered, sound very, very exasperated. “Not even the Denny’s fight meme. No dying. Not for memes.”

“Wait, which part of this is a meme?” Keith asked.

“Oh my god,” Lance laughed.

“I can’t believe this is actually a conversation we need to have,” Hunk moaned. “We’re defending the universe, and somehow we have to talk Keith out of challenging the crown prince to a meme fight.”

“I’m still missing something,” Keith decided.

“You are missing _so much_ ,” Lance assured him. “But it’s okay. We love you anyway, you cryptid-hunting desert hobo.”

“I wasn’t hunting cryptids; I was hunting your lion.” Keith’s frown deepened. “I _am_ a cryptid.”

“Oh my god,” Pidge whispered. “You are. You’re half alien. You’re a cryptid.”

“A gay half-alien living in the desert near an astrophysics research base,” Lance declared. “You’re _the_ cryptid.”

Shiro buried his face in both hands and let out a muffled scream that didn’t seem to end. Allura shuffled closer after a moment, when the scream had not yet ended, and patted him hesitantly on the back. “There, there?”

“Did someone try to teach Allura how to be comforting?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” Hunk admitted.

“It didn’t work.”

“She’s actually better than she was when we started,” Hunk told him.

“That’s… sad.”

Allura shot them both a glare.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight?” Lance offered.

Allura’s glare deepened. Lance grinned and shifted his ears, wiggling them and earning a furious, embarrassed blush from Allura.

“Lance, not now.”

“Is that a yes for later?” Lance asked, genuinely surprised. He tilted his head, eyes shifting and horns extending in reflex now that his ears were out.

“Now is not the ti—”

“You can shapeshift?” Kolivan asked, gaining the room’s attention.

Lance froze, carefully considered what had all gone down since he, er, ‘came out’ to the team. He realized at the same time as everyone else that no one had really told the Blade of Marmora, or anyone living with them, like Slav.

“I suppose we hadn’t found a chance to tell you,” Allura admitted, sheepish under the composed princess mask. “As most of us only recently found out…”

“I’m only half human,” Lance interrupted. “The other half is incubus. Well, concubus. Vampire subspecies. I feed off of blood and sex, or at least I’m supposed to, for my health.”

He gave them a thumbs up. “There, you got the cliff’s notes version.”

 “And you can shapeshift,” Kolivan said, gaze seemingly on Lance’s ears.

Lance shrugged and pulled his shirt and jacket off so he could shift completely. “Tada! This is my other form.”

“I see.” Kolivan nodded after a long moment, and then turned back to the star map and pointed at something. “This supply route would make a good ambush point, particularly if we’re looking to collect information first…”

Lance let the conversation float on without him; he wasn’t good enough to strategize the big stuff yet.

(He was pretty sure he’d get there, though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, 500 kudos, 100 bookmarks (75 of which are visible), over 4000 hits, 167 subscriptions, and nearly 200 comment threads? You guys make me happy inside. Also, the response to the last chapter BLEW ME AWAY. So many nice, long, excited commentaries!
> 
> The Word file is currently 80k words long. I'm also really glad I've got a three chapter buffer in place, or I wouldn't be posting today (because I've written like... five hundred words in the past three days, due to graduation and moving and stuff).
> 
> Oh, and in regards to Shiro, since I mentioned him in the notes at the top: a few of the inconsistencies in his character compared to canon are going to make a LOT more sense around... chapter seventeen?
> 
> Lance probably seems a bit OP, so I'm going to break things down for a bit, since most of his powers fall into one of the following categories:  
> 1\. He refuses to use them for ethical reasons (mind magics)  
> 2\. He cannot use them without an outside power source (fire magics)  
> 3\. He needs a conduit of some sort (tarot, music magics)  
> 4\. He needs both a conduit and EXTENSIVE preparation (warding, summoning)  
> That leaves him with a handful of things that he CAN do that are not present in canon: enhanced senses, enhanced healing/durability, physical abilities (flight, enhanced strength, supernatural balance), shapeshifting, glamours, and a few small other things. He also doesn't have a lot of magical stamina, so it's not quite as useful as one might hope.
> 
> I don't know much about real-life witchcraft (I've tried, but it doesn't really... stick?), so just assume that everything is happening in a fantasy context.


	14. Iris and Oats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance finally gets his violin, and does a little magic with his music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the tone of the story starts to shift, for lack of a better way to phrase things. It's all going to change from "purely scifi with incubus Lance" to "mixed scifi and modern fantasy" from here on out.
> 
> See bottom of the chapter for relevant links.

Lance’s fingers skittered over the smooth Olkari wood that Pidge had used to make his violin, curving through the scroll-like holes and the protruding edges, up the neck and to the strings made of some kind of Altean metal.

“Beautiful,” he said, and then picked it up and tucked it under his chin. After a moment, he nodded and stood up, shifting the box over onto the couch. “It’s shaped properly for comfortable positioning, too. The bow?”

“Had a hell of a time finding the right kind of hair, but… should work?” Pidge, sitting on the floor of the common area, held it up, and Lance took it. He eyed the scraps of wood that littered the floor around her, small chunks that he’d asked her to bring up just in case.

(“Just in case of _what?”_ )

(“If it works, you’ll know. If not, I’ll explain later.)

“Rosin?”

“Closest thing I could manage,” Pidge said, holding up a little block of… _something_. “Again, it should probably work?”

“Hm…” Tuning, first.

He rosined it first, then brought the bow up to the strings, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound. It wasn’t quite that of the violins from Earth, but it was close enough to work, he thought. Really out of tune, though. He hummed a little, and started turning the pegs, focusing.

“Do you have perfect pitch?” Shiro asked from where he was sitting on one of the couches, opposite Hunk and Lance.

“Yep,” Lance said, focusing in on the notes. “It makes playing violin easier, so it just… happened.”

“Just… happened?” Shiro questioned.

“It’s easier for me to learn something if the people I’m interested in find it attractive,” Lance explained, pacing around the room and outside of the little half-ring of couches, to the raised platform behind the peak of the ring. He hip-checked Keith when he passed him, just a few feet behind Hunk, earning an annoyed ‘ooph,’ but little else. “Have a skill that’s attractive to a potential bed partner? Easier to get laid, easier to feed. All that stuff ended up funneling into music and dance for me. I still had to put in a _fuckton_ of work to actually get anywhere, but there are… you know, there are little perks that crop up that aren’t a matter of work for anyone, just, you know, things. Perfect pitch is a thing that some people are just born with, right? So the incubus part of me just oriented itself to have that.”

“Cheater,” Pidge grumbled.

“Pidge, if I could actually _control_ what this part of me affects, do you really think I would have crashed the simulator at the Garrison so many times?” Lance asked. “Or come so close to failing so many tests?”

“That’s… true,” Pidge allowed.

“You’re still mad about the dancing,” Lance decided.

“Fuck you and your fancy feet,” Pidge practically growled.

“Language,” Shiro reprimanded, voice mild. He didn’t even look up from the datapad on his lap.

“We’re not children, Shiro,” Pidge snorted, head lolling back. “We’re old enough to say a few bad words.”

Shiro _did_ look up at that, opening his mouth to respond to Pidge, and then closed it again, looking genuinely surprised. After another moment, he spoke. “Sorry. Before Kerberos, I was… very used to watching my own language, and everyone else’s.”

“Because of all the press tours?” Hunk asked. “Like, the Garrison wanted you to keep up a clean image for the publicity stuff?”

Shiro gave him a strained smile. “Something like that.”

“Whatever you say,” Lance said, barely managing to restrain himself from tacking on ‘Space Dad’ at the end. It was tempting, given how Shiro was acting, but he’d already said that it made him uncomfortable and Lance was trying to respect that. “Anyway, I think I’m almost done here…”

“Gonna do requests?” Hunk asked.

“Some scales and warm-ups first, I think.” Lance twisted a peg just slightly, and played the open string again. It was more or less perfect now, and he nodded to himself. “Then some of the stuff that I’ve got memorized, I think.”

“Do you just really like the violin that much?” Keith asked. “Can you fiddle?”

“Kind of, and yes.” Lance worked his way through a scale slowly, and then again, faster. “I’ll tell you why I wanted a violin after I’ve gotten back into the groove and figured out if I can still do this with a violin made in space.”

“Still do what?” Pidge asked.

“Magic,” Lance answered simply, running through another scale. “I can sort of use music to direct magic back home, but the materials you use can affect things, so who knows? The fact that the wood is from Olkarion might make it useless.”

“ _Useless?”_ Pidge demanded.

“For magic,” Lance clarified, pacing as he did a few more warmups. “The sound is fine. If it only does music and not magic, I’ll still be happy with it.”

Pidge crossed her arms and huffed.

“Anyway, Hunk, you know what I’ve got down. Any requests?”

Hunk bit his lip, eyes drifting towards the ceiling as he thought. “That intro thing from the one Celtic Woman video you liked? Uh, Níl Sé'n Lá? I don’t know the pronunciation, but you know what I’m talking about.”

“Indeed I do!” Lance said, twirling the bow in his hand and placing it back against the strings. “I think you’ll forgive me if I hold off on dancing right now.”

“Focus on the music, my dude.” Hunk leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Despite his claim that he wouldn’t dance, Lance did feel compelled to bounce around a little as he played. It was just… he _liked_ this music. A lot. And it was fun and bouncy and dancy, and he couldn’t move _too_ much or he’d lose his place and fumble or something, but he had to dance a _little_.

“That’s adorable,” Pidge declared. “Like, legitimately. You’re doing this whole skippy, bouncy thing and it’s weirdly cute? Guys, back me up.”

“You’re like an excited puppy,” Keith said. Lance raised his eyebrows, and Keith rolled his eyes in turn. “Yes, you’re cute. I’m pretty sure I’m using a different meaning for cute than Pidge is, though.”

“Why did you have to go and make it gross?” Pidge whined. “I just wanted to comment on him bouncing? Why did you make it gross?”

“You asked me for my input. My input is that I want to dri—”

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro snapped, cutting him off. He finally looked up from his datapad. “Not appropriate.”

Lance saw the way Keith rolled his eyes. “We’re not at the Garrison. Or with your family. It really doesn’t matter.”

“It makes me uncomfortable. It makes Pidge uncomfortable. I don’t know to speak for Coran or the Princess or Hunk, but the point is that there are people in the room who don’t want to hear the more… explicit kinds of flirting that you two do.” Shiro’s voice was hard. “Save it for the bedroom.”

Lance brought his violin down, song over. “Um… should I get involved in this?”

“No,” Keith and Shiro said at the same time, not breaking eye contact.

“How am I supposed to know what the line between appropriate and inappropriate is, then?” Keith finally asked. “It’s different from what it was at the Garrison or at your house.”

“Err on the side of caution, then. And if someone tells you they don’t want to hear it, don’t argue back, just listen and _drop it,_ ” Shiro said. “I know you like to play up the rebellious streak, but take other people’s feelings into account when you do it.”

“…fine,” Keith muttered, crossing his arms and looking at the ground.

“Okay, maybe you two should hug it out,” Hunk suggested. “Seriously, this is a really dumb thing to argue over. Hug it out.”

“I second this motion,” Pidge said. “Seeing you two argue is _weird_.”

“It’s an old argument,” Shiro explained. “Kind of. Usually it was about using words that were inappropriate for the setting, not sexually explicit things, since he wasn’t as… active, back then.”

Keith snorted, and Shiro shot him a look.

“Now I kind of want to know what that was about,” Lance said. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Keith said after a moment. “Proooobably not.”

“He thinks I’m a hypocrite,” Shiro told them.

“I’ve heard your grandparents’ stories about how bad your language was when you were sixteen. Sure, you did most of it out of earshot of them, but—”

“Do I need to bring back the swear jar?” Shiro asked, a smile ghosting across his face.

“ _Do not,_ ” Keith said, looking sick at the idea of it. “Please.”

“There was a _swear jar?”_ Lance asked. “ _When?_ I thought you two met when Keith was, like, thirteen and already mostly in the clear for dirty language.”

“There were two rules: no swearing around my family, and no swearing at the Garrison pre-academy,” Shiro explained. “He still filled the jar pretty regularly.”

“Excuse me for swearing the same amount people my age normally did,” Keith muttered.

“It’s okay, my parents did the same thing after my little siblings started picking up my dirty language,” Lance said. “Like, why do you think I was using so many child-friendly swears when we first came up? You get in the habit.”

“I know,” Keith said, and he looked… kind of amused? Lance had no idea what was going on anymore. “My language was a lot cleaner before we started fighting aliens, too.”

“So are you two gonna hug it out, or…?” Pidge looked between the two repeatedly. “Seriously, this is weird.”

Shiro raised an arm and looked at Keith. Keith raised an eyebrow in return.

“I’m not getting up from this couch, Keith.”

Keith rolled his eyes and vaulted over the back of the couch, barely missing Hunk’s head with his own, and strode over to sit next to Shiro and get his awkward hug.

“You’re kind of a brat, Keith.”

“No shit.”

“So…” Lance said after a moment. “How do you guys feel about Lindsey Stirling music? I’ve got Roundtable Rival, Elements, and The Arena. Preferences?”

“I like Roundtable Rival,” Pidge said. “But I don’t think I’ve actually heard the other two.”

“I’m… having trouble with the name of the last one,” Shiro admitted. “I used to like it, but the name is—”

“The name?” Lance asked. What was so weird about _The Arena?_

Oh.

Oh wait.

Shit.

“Dude, I didn’t even _think_ of that,” Lance said. “Oh man. Yeah, we can drop that one from the list if it makes you think of that shit.”

“Maybe in a few days,” Shiro allowed. “It’s not like the song has any words, or like the melody will remind me of it, but just the title is… yeah. A few days.”

“So… just do the steampunk musical weaponry song?” Pidge said hopefully, and also very obviously steering the subject away from Shiro’s missing year.

“Sure thing, short shit.”

Lance did in fact feel a little more comfortable with dancing for this one, since he’d known it longer, but didn’t. Instead, he wove a bit of magic into the music, playing and playing and playing, until the video he’d seen so often almost took place around them.

Oh, the people weren’t there. The main players certainly weren’t, but the general shape of an old western was. Sensations, partly, but add enough pertinent details and the mind would supply the rest. A smell of beer here, some dry heat there, the edges of a few buildings with peeling whitewash and battered doors, a cloudless blue sky with an unbearable sun, some soft wind and distant hoofbeats on sand… it was enough.

“Whoa,” Pidge whispered.

Lance grinned and started dancing a little. “You did a good, Pidge. Everything works.”

“Yeah, no kidding…” Pidge breathed out, and Lance could see her looking around out of the corner of his eye. “Can I call Allura and Coran down?”

“Go for it,” Lance said, and then focused back in on the music. If he was careful, he could add more details, but his mind was already having trouble holding on to the few he’d put in so far. There was only so much a mind could focus on, even a half-demon one.

“Oh my.”

Lance looked up from the strings when he heard Allura’s voice, and flashed both Alteans a smile.

“This is a hologram?” Coran asked.

“Illusion,” Lance corrected.

“Holograms are technology. Illusions are magic,” Hunk explained. “Lance is pretty good at illusions.”

“I’m only catching glimpses, I think,” Allura said. “Is that intentional, or…?”

“I think Lance is trying to pull up a few details from his own mind and then poking ours to fill in the rest of the picture. But you don’t have the frame of reference for an old western, so…” Hunk looked over at Lance. “Hey, can you do that collective thing yet?”

Lance made a face. “Mind magics.”

“Riiiight,” Hunk said. “I keep forgetting that that one crosses over.”

“Besides,” Lance said, and played a few more bars, ending with a flourish. “Song’s over.”

Shiro clapped politely, which prompted the others to do the same.

“Thank you, thank you,” Lance took a few bows. “Now I should probably see if I can do what I actually wanted this for.”

“What, the music and magic aren’t enough?” Keith asked.

“More a specific _kind_ of magic that might have a distance component,” he admitted. “I’m going to do a trial run on something simpler first. Toss me some of the scrap wood?”

Pidge gave him an odd look, but tossed it, and he stuck it in his pocket and got started.

Lance took a few steps back, away from the flammable couches, and brought the violin back up and struck up a fast-paced tune, one of several designed for this particular purpose.

“Oh!” Hunk said, sitting up and looking closer. “Do you want the lyrics?”

“Could do with or without,” Lance said, frowning. “Don’t really need them. Sounds a bit silly without all the instruments.”

“This is ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia,’” Keith said, frowning. “I know this one.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, and closed his eyes, putting all his focus on the song. This version was _designed_ for a soloist, but… well, it helped to focus when trying to run this kind of magic.

“Hunk, what is he doing?” Shiro asked quietly.

“A summoning,” Hunk answered.

“…summoning _what_ , exactly?” Allura asked.

“Going by the song? Probably something from hell,” Hunk said. “Lance?”

Lance stomped his foot on the ground as he came upon a crucial section, and the black smoke furled out from below his feet with a fraction of a thought. It stopped and curled back in on itself just three feet out, a perfect circle of his own tiny hell.

“That’s—”

“Normal,” Hunk said, interrupting Coran. “For him. Even without the violin.”

 _Three, two, one,_ Lance counted down mentally, and then stomped again. He opened his eyes in time to see them.

A half-dozen fire imps popped up from the smoke, glowing red-orange-yellow like coals in sparks among the deep, dark red of cooling lave that made up most of their skin. They spoke in high-pitched chirps and clicks, not quite sapient, but smarter than most animals. They didn’t leave Lance’s vicinity, but circled him, eyes flicking between him and the others in the room.

Lance finished the song.

“Fire imps,” Hunk said after a moment. “Haven’t seen those in a few years.”

“Harmless?” Pidge asked.

“While Lance is here? Yeah.”

Lance crouched down and shifted most of his body, leaving out the wings since he still had a shirt on. He pulled out the piece of scrap wood and held it out to the little imps, who didn’t even reach a foot tall. They were almost humanoid, but with stunted, cartoonlike proportions. One of them came over and poked at his fingers, then looked up, questioning.

“Thank you for coming. I’m afraid I only summoned you here to check on whether certain elements of my magic were working. My apologies for taking you away from your busy schedules. Take this deadwood as compensation. You are dismissed.”

The fire imps chittered for a few seconds, and then poofed out of existence.

Lance looked at the smoke that surrounded him and frowned. That was going to smell like rotten eggs to everyone except him, and it would take a while to cycle out of the room, even with the castle’s filtration system. He was terrible at controlling smoke once he’d already let it out, but if he just _tried hard enough…_

Maybe he could banish it back to hell with the imps?

…Nope. Not working.

Okay, so maybe condensing it? He swirled a hand through the smoke, and made a grasping motion. He let out a sigh as the smoke swirled in on itself and turned into a pile of black powder in the middle of his hand. He put the violin aside and headed for the water fountain to rinse the icky stuff off, his demonic features receding as he walked.

“You just did a cross-dimensional transportation,” Allura finally said as he got rid of what was left of the smoke-powder. “You… you pulled something across time and space using just _music?”_

“And magic. Well, quintessence, I guess? For you?” Lance dried his hands on his pants. “But yeah. I can do it if I’m in a fire, too, since I’m damning the flames just by _being_ in them. I wouldn’t need the music for that if I were full demon, though. Being half-human puts a few limits on a bunch of my magic.”

“ _Cross-dimensional transportation! Without a wormhole generator!”_ Allura repeated. “That’s… I would say it was impossible, but I just saw you do it!”

“Uh… yeah?” Lance tilted his head. “Listen, it’s not that useful. The imps aren’t exactly smart, and all they’re really good for is wreaking havoc or looking intimidating when I’m damning a fire.”

“You could operate the teludav!” Allura burst out.

“…wait, seriously?” Lance asked. “ _Seriously?”_

“Maybe!” Allura’s hands became fists at her sides. “There’s a chance that your quintessence and abilities could mesh with the technology for the teludav. I am… very surprised by your abilities. Again.”

“Yeah, well, c’est la vie.” Lance shrugged. “Anyway, I just did that as a test run to see if I could do musical summonings from a ridiculous distance now that I have a violin. Apparently, I can! So, uh… yeah, everyone that needs to be sitting down is. Okay. Cool. I’ll sit down too.”

He vaulted over the back of the couch and landed at the head of the half-circle. He glanced at Hunk, who looked shocked, like he’d already realized what it was that Lance was planning.

“Right, so. There’s… an old superstition,” Lance started carefully. “About a song called ‘The King of the Fairies.’ It’s a good song, but the legend is that, if you play the song three times, you’ll summon the Faerie King himself. This isn’t true, but it does have some basis in reality.”

“Playing the right song on the right instrument while imbuing the music with magic _can_ summon something, which, uh, I just proved with the fire imps.” Lance scratched the back of his neck. “So playing ‘The King of the Fairies’ and imbuing it with magic won’t _actually_ summon Oberon, because he’s got better shit to do, but you can get fae messengers. They’re basically unlimited teleporters, so long as they have an idea of the area or a map, or a seal or tracker to orient towards. They’re also one of the few systems available for a _safe_ trade with a fae. You still take precautions, of course, but if you have something they want, they’ll do a delivery for you.”

There was a long silence, and then Pidge finally said, in a slightly broken voice, “I could talk to my mom?”

“You could send a letter or a video file, probably.” Lance nodded. “I’m still not a hundred percent sure that it would work, due to the distance, so don’t get your hopes _too_ far up, but the thing with the imps was a pretty good sign?”

“Would we be able to get anything back, or is it one-way only?” Shiro asked.

“Pay enough and you can request a delayed return message, yeah.” Lance bit his lip. “We don’t have most of what they _would_ want, because currency is a thing, but sometimes they trade for energy, so I think we can pay them with some small Balmera crystals? It’s a flat rate for distance, last time I checked. All the changes in prices are based on _what_ you’re sending.”

“We should…” Shiro shook his head. “Princess, do you have any paper and writing utensils?”

“We don’t have much, since most of the building is handled digitally, but I think there are some rooms that had art supplies that may suit your needs,” Allura said, looking a little shocked. Lance was pretty sure he knew why, at least. Allura wasn’t comfortable with this, not when she’d never have a similar option to contact all _she’d_ lost.

“I know where it is!” Pidge yelled, and ran off.

Lance rubbed at his upper arm. “Um, I already wrote my letters, so… Coran? Could you help me set up some precautions?”

“Precautions?” Coran asked.

“There may be a system in place to make it mostly safe, but they’re still _fae_ , okay?” Lance shuddered. “You take what precautions you can. And in this case, this means I’m going to need salt, and jewelry for everyone made of iron and silver.”

Coran nodded, apparently finding nothing strange about that. “And some Balmera crystals, I imagine.”

“Just a few of the small spares should do the trick. I think I can get a round trip or two out of just one of the smallest ones, but it’s best to have at least a few on hand.” Lance bounced on his toes. “So… there a smithy or something that we can go to?”

“I think I know a few fabricators that we may be able to use for this. Silver and iron, you said?”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance walked back into the room with a small bag of jewelry and his own stack of letters. He’d had more than enough time to write his own, and ended up writing a bunch.

“Envelopes,” Pidge said, when he walked in, “were nonexistent in Altea, apparently.”

“That sucks,” Lance said. “Are you making them on your own, then?”

“Can we just fold them up and tape them?” Shiro asked.

“No,” Lance answered immediately. “Just… trust me. Envelopes are a matter of privacy with the fae. Even a shitty envelope is a good thing. And we’ll need a bigger one to shove them all in, too.”

“Why?” Allura asked.

“Names,” Lance said. “Like… you do not, under _any_ circumstances, want the fae to know your name. A nickname, sure, but nothing you identify as being _you_. And I doubt any of you want to go around risking your families by revealing _their_ names, so we’re going to stick all the envelopes with addresses and names inside a bigger envelope, and then send that to my family, and they can distribute it.”

Eyebrows climbed higher, on pretty much every face except for Hunk and Coran’s.

“Listen, when dealing with the fae, you take all available precautions.” Lance crossed his arms. “My family can handle a fae deal. None of yours know what’s going on, though, and they might do something wrong.”

“Well, mine are done,” Hunk said, holding up two envelopes that had clearly been made by hand, given the tape. “One for my moms, and I figured one for your family would probably be a good idea.”

“Awesome,” Lance grabbed both. “Anyone else done?”

“Almost,” Pidge said, scanning through her own letter, which was several pages long, double-sided, and filled with cramped, hurried writing. “Just my mom, though.”

“Include the full address and name,” Lance said. “And are there any instructions you can give to whoever does the distribution to make sure your mom doesn’t slam the door in their face?”

“I’m… yeah. Where should I…?”

Lance held up the only unpacked letter he had left. “Instructions. Just tell me what to write while you’re packing yours up.”

“To tell my mom that… uh… ‘Katie’s still trying to keep the promise she made on Matt’s birthday.’” Pidge paused in her folding, staring down at the letter. “And if she doesn’t take that at face value, then shapeshifting will probably confuse her enough to listen for at least a little.”

“Alright, then,” Lance finished scribbling the instructions down. “Hunk’s moms already trust my family with magical shit, unless something’s changed since we left. Shiro? Keith?”

“I don’t have any family,” Keith said, shrugging. “All my letters are packed in with Shiro’s, except…”

“Except?” Lance prompted.

“I wrote a bit of a ‘take that’ letter to Iverson,” Keith admitted. “Just, you know, I made it to space even though I got kicked out of the Garrison. Kind of want to rub it into his face.”

“… _petty_ ,” Lance accused, though not without a hint of delight. “Please tell me you told us that _all_ of us are here.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” Keith nodded.

“Aweso—”

“Ah, paladins?” Allura said, coming into the room with something in her hands that they didn’t recognize. “This is… I think it could help.”

“What is it?” Hunk asked.

“A printer,” Allura answered. “It was outdated even before I went into stasis, but it should work. So if you wanted to send some pictures to your families…”

There was a long silence, and then Lance snapped his head towards Pidge. “Can you convert a jpg into whatever that thing uses?”

“Easy,” Pidge said, nodding immediately. “Group picture first?”

“It’ll make it easier to convince everyone that this is legit,” Lance said. “Princess, _thank you_.”

“It was no trouble,” she said, though the dark, dusty fingerprints on her dress and the smudge on her face said otherwise.

“Group photo time!” Lance called. “Shiro, come on!”

“Let me finish this sentence,” Shiro said, scratching down some large, rounded characters. Lance had no idea what they said, though he recognized Japanese when he saw it. The writing was noticeably larger and cleaner than the two other letters, which stuck to something a little messier and more natural.

“C’mon, you can finish your letter up after we’re done with the photo,” Lance said, digging out his phone. “Princess, Coran, could you do the honors?”

“What honors?” Coran asked, though he took the phone anyway. “Just pressing the little circle, yes?”

“Tap the screen over one of our faces, first, to make it focus properly. And your gloves might get in the way.” Lance took a seat next to Shiro and dragged Pidge into his lap; she huffed and rolled her eyes, but leaned back and slung an arm around his neck, leaning her head against his jaw. Keith sat down next to Shiro and slumped against him, holding up a peace sign that managed, when paired with the bored and slightly dead look on his face, to seem sarcastic. Hunk plopped down next to him, flinging an arm across the back of the couch, and grinned at the camera.

“Everyone say cheese!” Lance said, and while nobody actually said it, they did pull up their own smiles.

Except Keith. Lance could see Keith just staring at the phone with a look that could be described as deadly boredom.

Coran seemed to realize after a moment that this was the right time to take a picture, and did so. Lance leapt to his feet and over to the camera phone, taking a closer look at the photo.

“Looks good! I’m gonna go around and get some solo shots and stuff.” Lance pulled away. “But first, how about a shot of you and Allura? So our families get an idea of who we’re staying with?”

Coran pulled Allura into a one-armed hug and grinned at the camera, one hand on his hip. Allura regained her footing after a moment, reaching up tuck her hair back behind her ear, and Lance got a picture when her hand was back to about her shoulder. Her smile was softer before she had a chance to focus on it. Not as bright, sure, but definitely more natural.

“Coran, while we’re doing this, do you think you coul—yes! Yeah, just the salt. Okay, Pidge! V for victory!” He called, and Pidge flashed two peace signs his way. “Hunk, selfie with me!”

Hunk rolled his eye but grinned and pressed his cheek to Lance’s, joining in on the duckface. Lance tapped the right button, waited just long enough to make sure the picture didn’t turn out blurry, and then hopped over to Shiro and Keith.

“Your turn!” He said brightly. “C’mon, Keith, put a little pep in that smile!”

Keith raised an eyebrow, but went from looking dead to just looking amused, which was… not a smile, but Lance would take it. Shiro _did_ smile at the camera, but he looked kind of sad when he did it.

“Cheese!” Lance mocked, snapping the photo. “Okay, okay, uh… Pidge and Hunk, trio photo! While Shiro finishes his letters!”

“And then some solos and print?” Pidge asked.

“I mean… on second thought, I don’t think we really _need_ them?” Lance considered. “I mean, we got a solo for your mom. Keith apparently knows all of Shiro’s people, so sending them the duo pics isn’t weird. And Hunk and I, our families know each other pretty well so it’s not weird to send a pic of the two of us together? And I figured your mom would maybe want a pic of all three of us, since we disappeared together.”

Pidge shrugged. “Okay, then. Get over here, assholes.”

“Language,” Shiro muttered, not even looking up from the letter he was working on.

“Did he even realize that—” Lance asked.

“I don’t think so,” Keith said, looking at Shiro with a grin. “That was just reflex.”

“Hm?” Shiro hummed absent-mindedly, still not looking up. “Did you say something?”

Lance stifled a snort, even as he saw Keith biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“Anyway, all in, you nerds. Time to selfie!” Lance waited until Pidge and Hunk had leaned in, and then turned to the side to press his back to Hunk’s, bringing his free hand up under his chin. “Charlie’s Angels, let’s go!”

“And you call _us_ nerds,” Pidge scoffed, but brought her hands up in a gun shape under her chin. “Why are we memeing for photos we’re going to send to our families after several months of them probably thinking we’re dead?”

“Because that way, they’ll know it’s actually us,” Lance declared. “Now murder pout, like Keith does.”

Lance ignored the annoyed protest from Keith, because Pidge and Hunk were totally playing along and doing the murder pout.

“Wait, wait, wait, one more. Keith, get over here and go Galra.” Lance pulled off his own shirt and shifted to demon form.

“Why?” Keith asked, though he stuck his hand in his pocket and did as asked.

“How much do you think a photo of you as a literal alien is going to piss off Iverson?” Lance asked, grinning wide.

“…take the photo.” Keith stepped closer to Lance and let him press their cheeks together. Keith gave the camera the most unnervingly blank stare he could, which was very unnerving and very blank indeed, given that his Galra form’s eyes had no discernible pupil or sclera. The glistening, uniform yellow surface was great for being creepy.

Lance just grinned and showed off his fangs, and snapped the picture. “Okay, _now_ we’re good to go.”

“Alright, let me get this printed. How many of each?” Pidge asked. “Are we sending all the photos to everyone, or just the ones they’d find relevant?”

“Let’s go with ‘all’ to be safe?” Lance said. “So… my family, Hunk’s family, your mom, and… Shiro, how many for you and Keith?”

“Er… two. My family, and Hayley,” he said, looking down at the lengthy letter in front of him, covered in that larger-than-usual handwriting, and then sighed. “I think I’m mostly done now.”

“So five of each photo, then,” Pidge muttered, hooking the camera up to her computer and doing something fiddly with it that Lance didn’t bother trying to follow. Pidge said she knew how to convert a jpg to some Altean format, so he’d just let her do her thing.

“Six of the group photo and our demon-and-Galra thing,” Keith said, and shrugged at the questioning looks that he got. “Hey, if I’m going to rub this in Iverson’s face, I’m going all out.”

“You have some weird priorities, dude,” Hunk said.

“No, no, I agree with him,” Lance said. “Rub Iverson’s face into the fact that we made it to space.”

“Fuck yeah,” Pidge agreed, focused on her computer screen. A few seconds later, the printer started churning out photos.

“Ooooh, matte?” Lance picked one of them up. “I can work with that. I’d prefer a high gloss, but matte works.”

“Stop criticizing the photos and just do your thing,” Pidge said.

“Right, right…” Lance shuffled through the photos, separating them out into a stack for each envelope that would need one. In minutes, it was all packed away, and Lance dropped a bit of blood onto the envelope with the instructions on distribution to make sure that attention would be drawn there first. Then he stuck it all in one particularly big envelope, scrawled his home address onto it, and turned to everyone else.

“Each of you is going to take one of these bracelets. They’re made of iron and silver links. Take one of the choker necklaces, too, if you think you can handle having that weight on your throat without too much discomfort.” Lance took a breath. “I’m going to do the summoning. If you stay in the room, then I need you to do me a favor and _stay quiet_. Even if the fae addresses you, do not respond. If I gesture for you to respond, then do not thank them for anything. Do not _accept_ anything. Do not tell them your name, even a nickname. But overall, just remember that talking to fae without any experience is a great way to get yourself stolen. I know what I’m doing here. You don’t. So just… trust me to do the talking, the exchange, and everything else.”

“We get it,” Pidge grumbled. “This is your area of expertise. I wouldn’t expect you to be able to contribute to a hacking project, and I’m not going to think I can contribute to a fae deal.”

“I know I’m probably being pushy, but…” Lance made a fist, digging his nails into the meat of his palm. “I just… fae. Are risky. They don’t play by our rules, and they’re _always_ looking for a way to incur a debt.”

“All of them?” Keith asked.

“Enough,” Lance allowed. “I mean… there are some that probably don’t? But it’s culturally ingrained, and they’re slow to change as a society because time passes differently in the courts and they live for millennia, and just… no, not all fae, not all of them are like that, but there are _enough_ that are that it’s always better to err on the side of caution when dealing with them. They’re powerful and the communal hobby is fucking with non-fae. The ones that answer summons are usually pretty laidback, and have rules that _they_ need to follow, but… today, my _job_ is to talk through a relatively low-risk encounter without getting you guys fae-stolen.”

“Lance, we promise we’ll stay quiet. Just… do your thing.” Hunk bounced one leg. “Or do you need some more setup?”

“Coran got the salt circle,” he said. “That’s the last of it.”

He picked up the big envelope and the violin and bow, and stepped into the salt circle, which was nearly a dozen feet across.

“I thought salt was supposed to stop demons,” Keith commented.

“Half-human, and not even a traditional demon, since I’m part of the vampire subspecies. Besides, the way salt works is… complicated. Almost every complex organism on Earth needs salt to survive, mythological creatures included. Salt circles are at least partially about intent. Don’t worry about it for now.” Lance set the envelope at his feet so that he’d have both hands free, checked his pocket for the Balmera crystals, and shifted into demon form and brought the violin up into position.

He began to play ‘The King of the Fairies.’

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Pale lilac smoke streamed from the violin on the third play, drifting down and away, bumping into an invisible wall at the edge of the salt circle, and then coming to a stop a few feet in front of him.

It coalesced into an androgynous form, with jewel-bright green insect wings that looked tattered and spiky despite being wholly undamaged, and a drapey dark red shirt and tight pants and a set of heavy black leather boots. Eyes like black marbles met his, hidden partially behind ratty red hair, and Lance took down the violin as the last notes of the song hung in the air. He could feel the gazes of his team on himself and the fae, waiting with bated breath, but didn’t move to acknowledge them.

“Deep space… I suppose I should be glad, to be the first to answer a proper summons from such a distant place. What’s the delivery request, then? Or have you other things to ask for, little halfbreed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance can't actually work the teludav. He hasn't got enough quintessence for something that big.
> 
> The post that inspired this plot point: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/160679929345/trickerydickerydock-duskenpath
> 
> Lindsey Stirling's "Roundtable Rival" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MCjU-Du3eI (This is honestly my favorite song of hers.)
> 
> The first half of this video, after the violin joins in but before the singing starts, skip to maybe 1:40 if you just want to get to the relevant part, though the drumming is also fun: Celtic Woman's "Níl Sé'n Lá" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64Akaz43fgY
> 
> The Charlie Daniels Band's "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6RUg-NkjY4
> 
> (Skip to 0:30) King of the Fairies - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqeDRst35mg


	15. Mossy Saxifrage and Snowdrop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet: Marisol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are going to be from Marisol's point of view (not counting this opening scene). I've had some fun playing with the paladin's families here.

“Modern English?” Lance asked, leaning down to pick up the envelope, and then stepping to the side as he rose to his feet again.

The fae grinned and followed suit, and they started circling each other, slow and deliberate. “If you wish. I won’t be offended if your words come from this century, rather than the Bard’s.”

“Might make this trade pass quicker.”

“Mm…” they tilted their head. “So, where are we?”

“About three billion light years from planet Earth. Gotta love that flat rate shipping, right?” Lance grinned. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“You’re the first to deliberately summon a messenger fae from this far, yes.” They shrugged. “Not the first to summon a fae from deep space at _all_ , however. The ones that did so by accident… well, they didn’t know what they were doing, and they were quick to insult us. They do make such pretty trophies…”

“I’ve seen the halls where some fae keep their trophies. Pretty is the name of the game, isn’t it?” Lance stopped in his circling, and the fae matched him. He pulled out a Balmera crystal. “How many trips can this buy?”

“A bauble like that?” They eyed it for a moment, and then said, “Certainly enough to take something back to Earth.”

“How many trips from here to Earth, or vice versa, maximum, with a delay for proper answers, can this buy?” Lance asked, keeping his tone light. “I’d known it could buy a trip, but the _quantity_ matters so much in this circumstance, doesn’t it?”

The fae licked their lips, eyes still on the crystal. “I’d need a closer look.”

Lance held it out, but kept his grip tight. “This is not freely given.”

“…adorable,” the fae laughed, stepping closer and making a show of putting their hands behind their back. They bent at the waist, and those shiny black eyes stopped just inches from the crystal, wide and unblinking. Up close, Lance noticed an odd green shine to them, almost like an oil slick.

“Verdict?”

“A maximum of three trips with a package that can be held in hand,” the fae declared. “If one includes a delay of three hours between trips to allow for replies to be manifested.”

“Then let that be the deal: three trips, three hours apart, with packages capable of being held in hand, to be delivered to this address,” Lance held out the package and tapped his family’s address, “and this Castle in turn, to be paid for with one energy crystal.”

“Agreed,” the fae said, holding out a hand. “Shall we shake on it?”

“The crystal is the only payment,” Lance said, careful to keep his tone light.

“The crystal is the only payment, and none else shall I attempt to draw from you,” the fae laughed as Lance shook their hand. “Little halfbreed, have you dealt with my kind before?”

“I haven’t treated with a messenger fae in several years.”

“Your demonic heritage, however… perhaps you treated for something else?” They ran a thin tongue over their lips, then grinned with teeth far too sharp to be human. “Little incubus?”

“Not with you. However pretty you are, I have business to run, and summoned you for that purpose.” Lance held out the package. “I await your return in three hours.”

“Three hours, indeed,” the fae said, laughing again as they took the package. They knelt to the floor to press a tracking rune to the floor.

“How long before it fades and stops working?” Lance asked, crystal still in hand.

“Four hours to stop working properly, six to fade completely.” The fae held out a hand. “My payment.”

“Until your return,” Lance said, nodding, and handed over the crystal.

The fae grinned, sharklike, and slipped the Balmera crystal into an unseen pocket. Without ceremony, they dissolved into fine mist once more.

Lance dragged in a deep breath and rolled his neck, letting his demon attributes recede once more. “Someone toss me my shirt?”

“That went well,” Hunk said, throwing him the shirt. “They didn’t really seem to be trying?”

“They weren’t,” Lance muttered as he yanked his shirt back on. “The precautions and me being in demon form were enough of a sign to them to just get to business and get going.”

“I’m guessing things would have been more dangerous without them?” Coran said. “What we just saw seemed rather… tame, considering what you said earlier.”

“They knew what they were dealing with. They knew that _I_ knew how to handle a fae, which is more important. The salt circle, the bracelets, the chokers, me being in demon form and immediately asking about what form of English to use? Using ‘King of the Fairies’ to summon them? Basically everything that I did was a sign that, while fun to play with, I was there to do business. The fact that not a single one of you spoke was actually important, because it meant that they knew they couldn’t mess around with you either.” Lance plopped down on the couch next to Hunk and snuggled in as close as he could. “That was like… the safest condition possible in which to meet a fae. So, uh, congratulations! Your first knowing encounter with a supernatural creature other than me. Ta-da!”

Hunk brought up a hand and ran it through Lance’s hair. “You did good.”

“I did,” Lance agreed, closing his eyes and letting Hunk’s hand do its work. “Buuuuuuuut I gotta ask you guys a thing.”

“Oh boy,” Pidge whispered under her breath.

“What?” Shiro asked. “Do you need more blood after using magic in that quantity?”

“N—well, yeah, but it’s like the equivalent of going an extra fifteen minutes without lunch. Summons are pretty easy when I do them with a violin. Don’t worry about it. I was just going to say that, since we have six hours until we have to send something back… you probably have enough time to rig up some long-distance communicators for your families.” Lance opened up his eyes to catch whoever was in his line of sight. This meant Pidge, mostly, since she was still on the ground. “I mean… maybe video chat or something?”

Pidge bit her lip, then looked over at Allura and Coran. “Can we modify some of the tech for the distress beacons?”

Lance snapped his eyes shut and tried to ignore the look on Pidge’s face and the waver in her voice. This wasn’t something he could personally help with. He’d have to leave it to Hunk and Pidge and Coran. All he’d done was supply the idea and facilitate transportation; they’d take care of the rest.

o.o.o.o.o

“SIS! SIS! ¡HERMANA, DESPERTARSE, ESTÁ MUY IMPORTANTE!”

Marisol sat up with a groan. Dammit. She’d agreed to babysit for the day with the expectation that she’d be able to sleep through part of the morning, in hopes that she could get over the late night she’d had feeding after a day full of working on her Master’s. She rolled out of bed and padded over to the door of her room, rubbing the rheum out of her eyes.

“What do you want?” She asked as she opened the door. “And why aren’t you just using my flipping name?”

She punctuated the sentence with a yawn, and almost missed their answer.

“There’s a messenger fae at the door!”

That snapped Marisol to full awareness as soon as it registered properly. What the _hell_ was a fae doing at their house? She looked down at her little half-siblings and spoke quietly.

“I need you two to stay up here, okay?”

“Because of the fae?” Diana asked.

“Yeah, ‘cause of the fae. I’ll handle it.”

She slipped past them and down the stairs, stepping just in front of the slightly ajar front door.

“Smart kids,” the fae said, apparently skipping any kind of introduction. “Didn’t tell me their names, or yours, or even say anything other than that they needed to get an adult.”

“Well, I’m the adult. What can I do for you?”

“Delivery from the absolute _farthest_ summons I’ve ever answered,” the fae said, holding out the package. “I’ve got a three-way trip paid up by the sender, so I’ll be back in three hours to get your response. See you then.”

The fae disappeared with that, leaving Marisol to look at the large, clearly handmade envelope in her hands.

“What the shit,” she muttered, closing the door and heading towards the kitchen. “Teo! Diana! It’s okay to come down again!”

There was a distant sound of scrabbling hands and thumping knees as the two made their way down.

Marisol put on some coffee and took a seat at the table. The clock said that it was ten in the morning, which… sure. Four hours of sleep was enough. It wasn’t like she needed as much as a human anyway.

“Did you two drink your blood this morning?”

“No.”

“Get on that, kiddos.”

Three hours to read through whatever had been sent her way, figure out a response, and send whatever it was on its way. Fine. If it was actually for one of the parents, she’d make the call and hope they could come back in time to catch the fae.

The second she opened the envelope, the smell hit her. Diana and Teodoro’s heads snapped up a second later as the smell wafted over to them as well, and they all stared for a moment.

“Lance?” Teo said after a moment. “That’s… Lance’s blood, right? Mari, is that—”

Marisol ignored him, dumping the contents of the large envelope onto the table. There was a number of envelopes inside, bundled up into sets with addresses, and one that had a few specks of red.

_READ THIS FIRST_

“Alejandro Álvarez, what did you _do?”_ She hissed between her teeth, ripping open the letter and scanning through it.

_Hey, guess who’s not dead!_

_I mean, you probably already figured that out. Magic is fun and I’m sure you had someone scry to see if I was alive, at least, even it tracking spells would have been useless. I’m in deep space, fighting a war with and against aliens. It’s a fun time (not really)._

_Diana, Teo, if you’re reading this, give it to an adult._

_Adults: there are four other humans up here with me. Well, kind of. One of them’s half-alien but didn’t realize it until we got up here and some shit didn’t make sense. Point is, I finally got my hands on something kind of like a violin and if you’re getting this letter, then the summoning worked. Yay! Do me a favor and make sure that my friends’ letters get to their friends and families, and that you do it fast enough to give them a chance to respond. Get a teleport spell from Nina’s shop if you have to, but_ please _make sure the other families have this chance too._

_Anyway, there’s more details in my letters. Here’s some extra instructions so that the other families don’t turn you away._

_Alejandro ‘Lanzador’ Álvarez… out!_

Marisol scanned through it, heart beating a mile a minute. She was kind of surprised that it hadn’t _stopped_.

“Sol?” Teo called her name. “Is Lance…?”

“He’s fine,” she forced out, then stood up and immediately started rifling through the piles to make sure that she knew what was going where. “Mostly. The blood was there so I’d know to read it first. Finish your blood packs, call the family in, make yourselves some normal cereal right after if you can. I need to go to Nina’s. Can I trust you to finish eating and not make trouble?”

“Where’s _Lance?”_ Diana demanded. “Is he okay?”

“He’s apparently fighting a war in space, but other than that, he’s fine.” Marisol bit her lip as she reached the pile for their own family. She untied it after a moment and swept the pile out across the table. Her own name stood out to her, along with a letter each for the kids. There were two letters addressed to the whole family, one in Lance’s handwriting, and one in Hunk’s.

_Those brats…_

“Call everyone who has a letter with their name on it. Tell them it’s about Lance and to get here as soon as possible, because the messenger fae gave us a three-hour time limit to get responses made. _Then_ read the letters he sent you and write one back on some clean paper from the printer.” Marisol waited until the two nodded, gathering up the letters that went to other families, and then smiled. “Looks like it’s gonna be a while before we get Lance back, but at least we know he’s okay!”

She left and headed straight for the apothecary a few streets away, sandwiched between a tattoo parlor and a flower shop. Well, she flew over, after stuffing the letters into her bag. And then she nearly crashed through the front door.

“ _Nina, I need your help!”_ She yelled the second she was through the door, overhead bell jangling. “ _Now!”_

“Whoa, wait, what?” Nina rolled into sight in an office chair, visible in the doorway to the backroom. “What’s going on?”

“Lance finally got into contact with us, and I need a bunch of transport spells to make sure the other families get their letters too!” She leaned forward, clutching the bag to her chest.

“How many?” Nina asked as she stood up, rather than try to get more details. She tucked her hair up behind her ear, silver strands standing out against the dark brown of her skin, nimble fingers already picking through the ingredients she’d need. “And how far?”

“Um… one to Samoa,” Hunk’s moms were there visiting family, weren’t they? “One to Arizona, um… oh good, three of them are right there, cool, and then… one to New York City? That’s all of them. Wait, I have to make this a circuit, so Samoa needs to be two so I can get back to the States.”

She paced around the shop as Nina worked, and then realized something.

“Hey, if the fae can teleport that far, can you set something up too?”

“How far?”

“Deep space, apparently.” Marisol shrugged when Nina shot her a look. “Hey, I haven’t read the letter for details yet. Not sure how far.”

“I can’t send you teleporting that far without a targeting matrix of some kind to zero in on. Get my strongest to wherever he is, and then we’ll see. Too far away and even _I_ don’t know if it’ll work. Might need some more supplies and a lot of time to power something that far.”

“I mean, power for transport spells is logarithmic, not exponential. The amount of power needed to switch between a hundred miles and a thousand is—”

“Yeah, you said ‘deep space’ and I heard ‘literally light years away,’ so excuse me for erring on the side of caution.” Nina snorted out a quiet laugh. “You know how to use my teleports, right?”

“You rig up the maximum strength, I can get there if I have some way of denoting the place mentally, whether by memory, concept, or official designation like an address or coordinates,” Marisol rattled off. “And the targeting matrix?”

“Give me some blood so I can center it around you,” Nina said. “Come back in two hours and I’ll have it done.”

“How much?”

“Uh…” Nina bit her lip. “With your discount? Ten dollars for each of the teleports in-country, twenty-five each for the ones to and from Samoa, and… sorry, but seventy-five for a targeting matrix of that strength.”

“Works for me,” Marisol immediately said, pulling out a credit card. “If it gets me to Lance, I’ll do it.”

“Take a seat. I’ll have those teleports ready for you in five minutes,” Nina said, shooing Marisol off towards the chairs in the front of the shop. “You figure out your game plan if you don’t have one already.”

Marisol did just that, plopping down and flipping through the stacks, remembering the instructions.

Hunk’s family would be easiest; they’d known Mamá for long enough to be aware of the supernatural world. If Marisol told them magic was involved in finally getting a response, they’d take her word for it. So Hunk’s moms first, for time. Then…

Hayley Ishikawa in New York City, and the three locations in Arizona: the Shirogane family, Colleen Holt, and Commander Iverson.

The instructions said that the letter for Iverson was just a great big “fuck you” of some sort, so she could just drop that off without fanfare.

Colleen Holt… apparently the mother of Lance’s other missing teammate, who’d been there undercover? Huh. Okay. Damn, the woman had lost all three family members in what, a year? That must have been _hell_. There was a line there to say to convince the woman, but Marisol had a feeling that it wouldn’t be enough. So… if she talked her way in first, she could probably shift without too much worry, use that to convince Mrs. Holt and… yeah, okay. That would work.

She could probably do something similar for the Shirogane people? Yeeeeeeeah, that would probably work.

Marisol looked down over at Nina, figured that there was probably another four minutes to go, and then pulled out the one letter she wouldn’t be delivering.

_Marisol,_

_Hey sis! So, uh, I’d apologize about not getting in touch yet, but I’m kind of in deep space? As in, like, billions of light years away, sometimes. I think we’re usually between one and five billion light years away from Earth most of the time? Uh, yeah. Couldn’t really figure out a way to call home. Nothing on Earth is really set up to receive intergalactic communications, you know?_

_If I have gotten this to you, then Pidge finished making me a violin, and I tried the fae messenger route. I’m planning on paying them in energy crystals, since we have a lot of those, so you don’t need to worry about me being desperate to find something to trade._

_I’m up here with Hunk (obvi), Pidge (actually Katie Holt, daughter of Commander Holt from the Kerberos mission), Keith (yeah, yeah, that guy; found out he’s part alien, ended up telling him about me so he could have someone to relate to instead of panicking since his other half is the same species as the bad guys), and Takashi Shirogane. Yeah, Shiro. The pilot from Kerberos. My little fanboy heart could cry if it wasn’t stopping every five minutes because of this war._

_So, uh, I’ve already put most of this in the letter to the family, but I figured I should just like… cover it here too? I mean, you have no idea how weird things have been. I got kidnapped by a giant robot lion after Shiro crash-landed in the desert in an alien spaceship. I’m fighting against purple cat-bat-lizard aliens? They’ve been conquering the known universe for_ ten thousand years _(by Altean standards; I don’t know the conversion rates to our years). And now we have five giant robot lions that combine into a giant robot person with a sword and basically we’re going full mecha anime to save the universe._

_I think my life beats yours for weirdness for once?_

_Everyone on the ship knows I’m not human by now, by the way. I tried keeping it a secret, which… well. Hunk was helpful. Keith was helpful too, after I told him. I might have let myself get hurt and kept it a secret instead of going into the med bay pods like I should have a few times. Kind of bit me in the ass when Keith and Hunk got hurt, though (my fault, that time). They ended up in the pods for a week. Kind of ended up blood-starving until I accidentally changed in the middle of the common area with everyone watching (because of a goddamn _sneeze _, can you believe it?). Scared the shit out of Pidge and Shiro, but they didn’t freak out too much ‘cause I just kept sneezing until they realized I was basically useless to attack them. Everyone’s been pretty much accepting? Altean blood is pretty full of energy, too, and basically everyone on the ship is letting me drink from them, so I’m actually doing well on that front? (Not drinking from Pidge, though, she’s tiny and smol.) Plus there’s people here willing to sleep with me, so I’ve got a buffer there, too._

_Basically, I’m doing okay. I’ll try to help win this war as soon as possible, so don’t worry too much about me, alright? The Galra were going to attack Earth next, so I can’t come home yet. They might follow us there and then I’d be putting everyone in danger, which… yeah. You don’t have a giant robot cat or a castle/spaceship piloted by an alien princess to protect you from highly advanced alien warships like I do._

_Write back if you can!_

_\- Lance_

Marisol stared at the letter as she finished it.

“How the _fuck_ am I supposed to avoid worrying _now?_ ” She demanded. “A war? In _space?_ Alejandro, hermanito, what the hell have you gotten yourself _into?”_

“Isn’t that what people are usually asking you?” Nina drawled, coming closer with a handful of long tubes made of a heavy, cardboard-like paper. Most of them were red, while the last two were blue. “Here. Couple of in-country teleports and a pair of hemisphere-jumpers. They’ve already been registered, by the way, so if you have your passport, you’ll get logged by the country wards as soon as you make it to Samoa.”

“Thanks,” Marisol said, taking them in hand. “See you in a few hours?”

“Blood first,” Nina said, holding up an empty syringe in a plastic package.

Marisol made a face, but let Nina go through the legally-necessary disinfecting process before she drew the blood necessary for the highest strength tracking seals.

“I’ll try to finish it up before the fae comes back,” Nina said, waving her off. “Do your thing, hun. Outside, please.”

“…the letter said billions of light years, by the way. But the fae could do it, so I’m sure you can too!”

“…get the hell out of my shop, Sol. If you want this done, especially on a _three-hour time limit_ , I’m going to need to focus.”

Marisol exited the shop with a wave over her shoulder, packing away all but one of the teleports. She held out one of the hemisphere-jumpers, and thought of Hunk’s mothers’ place in Samoa. With a snap of her fingers, there was a lick of flame hover over her thumb, one that she brought up to the end of the teleport.

It caught, and started burning down, as it did, the world faded away, and within moments, the teleport was gone.

Marisol turned on the spot from where she stood on the front lawn of the Lotulelei household, and headed for the front door. Someone answered after just a few moments.

“Sol?” Arihi asked when she saw who it was. “What are you doing here?”

“The boys got in touch!” Marisol rushed through the sentence, and held out Hunk’s letter for his mothers. “They got a fae messenger. The fae’s going to come back in like… two hours and forty-five minutes for a reply? So try to get something done in two and a half hours and I can stop by then to pick it up and send it along.”

Arihi stared for a long moment, then looked down at the letter. “They’re… they’re alive.”

“Yeah. Not in the safest of situations, but alive.” Marisol bit her lip. “Listen, I’d love to stay, but I have to deliver more letters around.”

“Wait, how did you get here?” Arihi asked. “I know you can’t magic yourself this far without help.”

“Bought a teleport from Nina. She gave me a discount, don’t worry about it,” Marisol brushed her off. “Listen, I gotta rush. See you in two hours and change!”

She repeated the process with the teleport, closing her eyes and thinking of the address and name on one of the envelopes.

There was a gun pointed at her face when she opened her eyes.

“Um.” Marisol blinked and looked around. Someone’s office. Okay then.

“Who the hell are you and how the hell did you get in here?” The guy with the eyepatch asked.

“Uh… okay, look, I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on landing directly in your office, but you know what? I’m in a rush and I don’t super care right now.” Marisol reached slowly for her jacket; she’d survive a bullet wound, but it would be a bitch to heal from. “I’m the older half-sister of Lance Álvarez, one of the cadets that disappeared six months ago.”

The man’s visible eye narrowed. His gun didn’t move. “And how the hell did you make it past security and into my office?”

“Teleport spell,” Marisol said, not seeing any point in lying. Her hand fiddled with the envelopes inside of the leather pocket. “I didn’t expect it to take me straight in; military facilities usually have _some_ magical protection, whether it’s known to the people inside or not. You should probably ask someone about that.”

“Magic,” the man repeated. “You expect me to believe that—”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Marisol finally pulled out the right envelope, and held it out. “The brats got in touch. You’ve got five former Garrison kids fighting an alien war in space right now. One of them sent this letter to you specifically as some kind of ‘take that.’ If you’re Iverson, that is. I’m pretty sure you are.”

“Any reason I’m supposed to believe that?”

Marisol pursed her lips, then sighed and closed her eyes. She leaned forwards and opened them.

The man stiffened as he looked into slit-pupiled purple eyes that outright glowed. Marisol smiled, showing off her fangs, and blinked sideways with the nictitating membrane.

“I’m not going to convince you to believe everything I’ve said. But understand that magic, at least, is something that may be a little less fictional than you thought.”

_This man should already know this. He’s running a base that’s funded by military money and is military adjacent, function-wise. Did the feds just assume that he wouldn’t need to know? No wonder Lance had such an easy time sneaking out at night._

Iverson put down the gun. “Ms. Álvarez, was it?”

“Mm-hm.”

He eyed the letter for a long moment. “Which former Garrison students are out there?”

“My brother’s team, some kid called Keith, and Shirogane.”

Iverson stared down at the envelope. “Of course. Which one sent the letter?”

“Keith.”

“…somehow, I’m not surprised.” He reached out and took the letter without saying anything else, then sat down and… pulled out a bottle of whiskey?

“Uh…”

“I’ve been trying to find those children for six months, Ms. Álvarez,” he said, sounding tired. “If this letter is legitimate, then… well, it won’t count as evidence for anyone, but it will certainly be a relief to me, personally. I’m not good with children, but believe me when I say that I do my best to keep the ones left in my care safe. Losing those five was not an easy blow to my conscience.”

“…oh.” Marisol shifted on her feet, watching as Iverson pulled out a bottle of whiskey (it wasn’t even ten-thirty yet, but sure, this was probably a good reason to drink), and poured himself a glass. “I’ll just… go. Um, there’s, like… listen, there’s a chance that I could get a reply sent out? The method of correspondence has three trips in it, so if you have a letter ready in two hours and change when I come back, I can send it along?”

Iverson gave her a long, long look, and then nodded, looking just a little dead inside. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Marisol turned to smoke and filtered out the window, unwilling to try facing anyone in the halls or elsewhere.

She’d been to the town that sprung up near the Galaxy Garrison before, home to commuting Garrison researchers and the people who supported them with grocery stores, restaurants, auto care, and so on. There was even a small elementary/middle school. She knew, if only vaguely, how the town was laid out, since she’d stayed at the hotel before.

Marisol reconstituted herself into an actual person in an alleyway not far from the address of the Holts’ home. She wasn’t sure if Colleen would still be living there, but… well.

She made her way over and knocked on the door.

The woman who opened the door had deep bags under her eyes, and blonde hair that was greying at the roots. She did not seem amused to see Marisol standing on her doorstep. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Colleen Holt?”

“If this is about another interview regarding the Kerbe—”

“No! I’m… my name is Marisol Álvarez. My younger half-brother Lance was one of the three Garrison students that went missing six months ago.” Marisol gave her a hopeful smile. “Can I come in?”

Something in Colleen’s eyes was still suspicious, but there was sympathy there now. “And why do you want to talk to me?”

“…it’s about Katie.” _Please don’t shut me out._

Colleen sucked in a sharp breath, staring at Marisol. “You—”

“She was undercover as Pidge, right? Disappeared with my brother?” Marisol bit her lip. “I know this is sudden, but this is kind of time-sensitive, so—”

“Get inside,” Colleen ordered, opening the door wider and gesturing. “Let’s get out of the open.”

Marisol hurried to do just that.

Like most of the family, Marisol tended to dress in jackets over backless shirts. The kids were out of the habit due to all their schools having dress codes, especially Lance at the Garrison, but it was a decent plan for winged shapeshifters. The jacket preserved some degree of professionalism while still making it easy to shapeshift on the fly without ripping shirts or losing modesty.

“Take a seat,” Colleen said, gesturing at the couch. “You said this was about my daughter and your brother. I’m assuming that you have a reason for coming _now_ instead of six months ago?”

“I didn’t know that Pidge was your daughter back then,” Marisol said. “I only found out today.”

“How?” Colleen asked, her voice extraordinarily level.

“Lance got into contact with me.”

 Colleen went very, very still. “What?”

“The kids are mostly alright? They got some letters through to us. They couldn’t get into contact directly, but they found someone who could pass a message back, and… I’m taking care of distributing those letters to everyone who got one.” Marisol fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

“…why you?”

“My family was safer to contact than anyone else. The others would have been in danger due to the nature of the messenger.”

“Criminal, then?” Colleen asked. “Or political?”

“No!” Marisol said immediately. “No, not criminal, just… not normal.”

“Young lady, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but if you’re just stringing me along while my daughter is in danger, then—”

“I’m fifty-six, dude.”

Colleen stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“You called me young lady, but I’m older than you and… listen, the reason it was dangerous was that the messenger was fae. Not human. My family knows how to handle fae. You and the other humans don’t. I look like I’m in my mid-twenties even though I’m over twice that, because I’m not human either.”

“…get the _hell_ out of my—”

Marisol shifted to full demon form, and Colleen’s voice faltered. Her eyes traced over Marisol’s form, dark purple wings and such on full display. Finally she breathed, more than said, “ _Ðavo_.”

“I’m not human, ma’am.”

“I can see that.”

“The letters are legitimate.”

“I… can’t believe that.”

“I was told… I was told to tell you, as evidence, that Katie was working on keeping the promise that she made on Matt’s birthday.”

Colleen clenched her jaw, watching as Marisol pulled out Pidge’s letters and held them out towards her.

“We have an opportunity to write back, but there’s a time limit of three hours. About half an hour has already passed since I got that, so get your reply written in the next two hours and fifteen minutes, and I’ll come back and pick it up so we can send it along.”

Colleen reached out slowly, and took the letter. Her eyes came up to bore unflinchingly into Marisol’s. “Are letters the only thing we can send along?”

“Um… probably not? Keep it small, though. The fae don’t charge based on distance, but on what they’re transporting. Why, what were you hoping to send along?”

“…medication,” Colleen said after a long moment. “Katie left some things behind when she disappeared, unsurprisingly.”

“Right. Um. I’ll let myself out. I still have two more places to deliver to.”

“I’ll see you in two hours,” Colleen said, opening the envelope as Marisol got up. “You can let yourself out, I expect.”

Marisol shifted back to human and pulled her jacket on, heading for the door. “Yeah. Okay.”

She took a deep breath as she stepped outside, closing the door behind herself. That hadn’t gone too poorly. Colleen had clearly had trouble believing that the kids were in contact or that they were even _alive_ , but she’d taken the revelation that magic existed with surprising grace. Hopefully, the woman would take the letters seriously.

Next up, Shirogane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone happens to be from one of the cultures that I've had here and would like to tell me that I fucked up... please do. I did my best to research, but the internet isn't exactly trustworthy, and there's always a chance I missed something.
> 
> (I wish I could do more with Hunk's moms, but there's less conflict there since they already know Lance's family and about magic, so Marisol doesn't have to do the whole "yes, magic is real and you can trust me" thing that she does with the rest, and if she doesn't have to do that, then it's just a short stop because time limit.)
> 
> ALSO I have a whole... _thing_ about Lance's name and you'll probably see the super lame story behind the whole Alejandro - > Lanzador -> Lance thing. (It involves only minimal projection by my own foreign ass about Americans mispronouncing non-English names.)


	16. Everlasting Pea and Witch Hazel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the paladin families, and more world-building. (Please read the end notes.)

“Um… hi?”

Marisol blinked down at the young girl that answered the door, half hidden behind the wood. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old. “Hello. My name’s Marisol Álvarez. Does the Shirogane family still live here?”

The girl nodded silently.

“Can you get me an adult to talk to?”

The girl nodded again, and disappeared, shutting and locking the door behind her, going by the clunking noise that came after it closed. There was a patter of footsteps, some conversation in a language Marisol didn’t know, and then the door opened to reveal an elderly woman that was several inches taller than Marisol herself. Marisol wasn’t exactly on the short side herself, either.

“I’m Minako Shirogane,” the woman said, voice a little rusty and with something of an accent, but with the clear diction of someone who’d spent a lifetime doing public speaking of some sort; maybe the woman had been a lawyer, or a teacher or something. “Is there a reason you’ve come to my home?”

“My name is Marisol Álvarez. I’m the older half-sister of one of the Garrison cadets that vanished six months ago. Can I come in?” Bringing up Lance was… well, she’d normally consider it a cheap shot to get in, but it was true and relevant, and it was a sign that she had something serious to talk about, rather than being a reporter or someone else preying on tragedy.

There was a sharp gleam in Mrs. Shirogane’s eyes, evaluating, but she nodded after a moment. “What’s this about?”

“You may need to sit down,” Marisol said. “There’s… a lot to take in.”

One eyebrow quirked upwards, but Mrs. Shirogane did just that. “So? What do you want, child?”

 _Not a child_ , Marisol thought, but she had to concede that, unlike Colleen, Mrs. Shirogane was likely several decades older than her.

“Six months ago, my brother and two other cadets were reported missing by the Garrison. We were told that they were last scene in the company of a former student their age who had dropped out nearly a year earlier. They—”

“Keith,” Mrs. Shirogane interrupted.

“What?” Marisol said, a little blindsided. “I mean, yes, but how—”

“He was a friend of Takashi’s,” Mrs. Shirogane said. “I think my grandson was the boy’s _only_ friend, and leaving the Garrison after the Kerberos crash didn’t help. I don’t know why he would have been in the company of your brother, but Keith disappeared at the same time as the trio did.”

“That’s… actually part of why I’m here,” Marisol said, a little hesitant. “My brother managed to get into contact with me several hours ago. He and the other people he’s with got some letters through to us, and I’m distributing them right now. Some were addressed to your house and family.”

Mrs. Shirogane took a deep breath. “I see. Is there any way to prove that this isn’t some… hoax?”

“Read the letters and check the handwriting?” Marisol offered. “They’re all handwritten.”

“I don’t know Keith’s handwriting that well.”

“Yeah, that’s the other thing… it looks like your grandson is with them.”

Mrs. Shirogane tilted her head, frowning. It took a long, pregnant silence for her to answer. “That’s a heavy claim to make, seeing as the last thing we knew of my grandson was his supposed death on Kerberos.”

“I won’t claim to have details on the situation,” Marisol admitted. “I’ve got a time-limit to get these letters distributed, so I didn’t read the longer letter that my whole family received, but apparently he survived and is in the company of my brother and his friends.”

“I see. And why would they have stayed away? Where are they?”

“…they claim to be fighting a war in space,” Marisol said; something about Mrs. Shirogane’s eyes made her feel like she was under the microscope, and being evaluated by someone whose judgment she really did want to take into account. “Which is why they’ve had so much difficulty getting into contact.”

“A war.”

“With… aliens, yes.”

“You understand that this is difficult to believe.”

“I do, ma’am.” Oh god, where had that come from? _Ma’am?_ Ugh.

“Assuming that you’re telling the truth, how did they get into contact?”

“Magic,” Marisol said. “Which, before you say anything, I _can_ prove that magic exists.”

Mrs. Shirogane raised one silver eyebrow, and Marisol shrugged off her jacket. Half a breath later, she was in full demon form.

Sharp eyes widened minutely, but then immediately went back to the unimpressed shape they’d held before. “Well, that’s certainly new.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not human.”

“No.”

“What are you?”

“Succubus. Technically a vampire subspecies. Also a sex demon.”

Mrs. Shirogane nodded. “When you say magic… I’m assuming something prevented them from getting into contact before now?”

“My brother used a technique that was something of a last resort. Due to the distances involved, I doubt anything else would have worked, and in order to use it at all, he needed to have a violin on hand. Since he apparently finally got one made somehow, he could finally do a fae summoning.” Marisol shifted back to human and pulled her jacket on again. She checked her watch as she spoke. “We have a chance to send a reply back in… two hours and twenty minutes. If you have the reply done in the next two hours, I can send it along.”

“I see. I’d like my grandson’s letters, please.” Mrs. Shirogane said, holding out one wrinkled hand for the envelopes.

Marisol handed the small stack over. “Just one left, now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, someone in New York? Uh, Hayley Ishikawa? I don’t actually know who she’s related to, so I’m not sure how to approach her.”

“A friend of Takashi’s,” Mrs. Shirogane said. “I can give her a call to explain what’s going on, if that would make things easier. With the time limit that you mentioned, I imagine you’re eager to get home to formulate your own reply letter.”

“I… yeah. Kinda.” Marisol rubbed the back of her neck. “I can get the letter there pretty quickly, but I don’t really want to waste time explaining all of this again.”

“I’ll call now. You go ahead,” Mrs. Shirogane gestured for her to leave. “I don’t know if she’s home right now, of course, but you have the right address on there; I can see it from here. If she’s not there, you can leave it at her doorstep and get going; I’m sure she’ll be glad to see it even if she’s too late to send a reply.”

“Awesome,” Marisol breathed. “I’ll leave you to your babysitting, then. Mind if I teleport from here?”

“Will it leave any residue?”

“Bit of paper smoke, but that’s it.”

Mrs. Shirogane crossed her arms and nodded. “Go ahead, then.”

Marisol pulled out one of the last teleports and snapped her fingers, mentally repeating the address on the letter ad nauseum as the teleport burned down.

When she landed at her destination, it was in a nondescript hallway with stairs at either end. The floor was tile, and the whole thing was just a little shabby. It looked like the kind of place a recent college grad would live, actually.

The number on the door matched the apartment number on the envelope. Marisol waited a few moments, just long enough to hear a voice on the other side of the door start speaking softly. She knocked.

A blonde woman in her mid-twenties opened the door. Colorful, thick-rimmed hipster glasses caught the eye almost before anything else, and once Marisol looked at the rest, she couldn’t help but think, _damn, I wanna tap that._

“Marisol?” The woman asked, looking her up and down perfunctorily. She had a cell phone held up to her ear. “Minako says you have a letter for me.”

“Yeah. Here.” Marisol passed over the papers and nodded. “I’ll be back in two hours, I guess?”

The woman, presumably Hayley, nodded and turned away, closing the door. “If you say so. Was there anything else?”

“Not really?”

“Goodbye, then.”

Marisol shook her head as she snapped out of her slight distraction. Hayley was _gorgeous_ , what the hell? It wasn’t fair for people to be that pretty; they got into her head and made her brain go funny, and that was just mean.

Hayley was probably straight, too. Dammit.

Whatever. It looked like the hallway was clear. Marisol pulled out the final teleport, focused on California, and let it take her home.

o.o.o.o.o

“They sent _pictures?”_ Marisol demanded once she made it home. “Ricardo, let me see!”

He passed over the small stack with a smile, one that was reflected on pretty much every face in the room. Sure, Lance was fighting a war, and _Díos_ , that was terrifying, but he was alive. He was more or less happy, and he was more or less healthy, and he had friends and protection and a way to call home now.

“Oh man, is _that_ what the aliens look like?” Marisol laughed. “That’s practically human! Or maybe Elfin or demonic, going by the ears and those markings under the eyes.”

“I’m guessing common ancestry, somehow. Ten thousand years or not, that’s not an easily dismissed resemblance, is it?” Rosa mused. “But look at the other one, the Galra. There’s a picture where that boy, Keith, he changed.”

Marisol flipped through, laughing for a moment at the Charlie’s Angels pose, and got to a picture where Lance and Keith were in forms that were distinctly inhuman.

“They… Lance described them as bat-cat-lizard people, but this is going distinctly towards catboy territory,” Marisol said. “That’s adorable.”

“I’m certain they aren’t all quite so cute,” Rosa said. “He complained at length about them in the letter that the entire family received.”

“I still have to read that one,” Marisol grumbled, reaching for it. “And then write a reply, and then stop by Nina’s, and then go collect the other messages, and then treat with the fae again.”

“How much sleep did you get?”

“Like four hours,” Marisol whined. “I had a late dinner after all that shit for school.”

“Oh no, poor little Mari, working on _another_ Master’s degree,” Roberto mocked. “Not like you’ve already got four or anything.”

“Shove off,” Marisol said, baring her teeth and hissing for a moment before turning her gaze towards the letter that Rosa held out. “Thanks.”

“Just remember to hurry. We don’t have _that_ much time left.” Rosa reminded her. “Your parents have barely stopped crying, all three of them.”

“I know, I know…” Marisol said, already scanning through the letter. “But, you know, sleep. Adrenaline. A _fae_.”

“Aw, Sol, we both know you love the fae,” Ricardo teased.

“You two,” Marisol said, pointing between the twins, “Need to stop talking.”

Ricardo and Roberto fist-bumped, apparently not giving a shit.

“Diana, Teo, are you two doing okay?” Marisol asked. “Anything you need?”

“Can we send Lance stuff _other_ than paper?” Diana asked. “He said he didn’t have a lot of clothes in space, right?”

“The fae charge based on package type and size, honey. Pretty sure we should keep it light,” Marisol said apologetically. “Any other ideas?”

“Um… oh! We could send him a Kindle! With sheet music and stuff on it!” Diana was almost yelling as she related her idea.

“That’s… a good idea.” Marisol nodded. “Someone’s going to need to buy and transfer all those files, though.”

“I’ll do it,” Ricardo said, getting to his feet. “I’m still trying to figure out what to write about in response. I can think about it while getting some stuff together for Lance. Diana, Teo, do you want come help your Tío Ricardo with some files?”

Teo rocketed to his feet and into Ricardo’s legs. “Yeah!”

“Oof! Ey, diablito, not so harsh.” Ricardo picked up Teo and swung him around to piggy-back, then grabbed Diana’s hand. “You two need to write letters back too, okay? I’ll give you some paper and stuff in the office so you can write some.”

“Can’t I type it?” Teo asked.

“Hey, Lance sent you a handwritten letter, Teo. It’s polite to send a hand-written one back.” Ricardo bounced his shoulders, making Teo squeal.

Marisol looked down at the letter in her hands and got to reading.

o.o.o.o.o

“I hate you,” Nina said as Marisol walked in, with just twenty minutes left until the fae returned. “Like, legitimately.”

“Uh… hi to you to?”

“I did it. I’m not sure how far it’ll work,” she warned. “But it’s a tracking seal so who knows? Sol, do you know how many miles are in a light year?”

“Uh…”

“Let me put it this way: it takes twice the energy to go ten times as far, right? Logarithmic connection between power and distance for teleports. And then if you have some kind of energy crystal, they compound on each other instead of just adding? And I charge accordingly? In order to cover Lance’s apparent projected roaming range, it’s going to cost you about twenty times as much as an in-country teleport.”

Marisol raised her eyebrows. “You mean…”

“There are… there are about six times ten to the _twelfth_ power miles in a light-year. And then a billion light years? That’s another ten to the ninth right there. And then, to be safe, we’ll say that I’m going out to about five light years, right? So we end up with three times ten to the twenty-first power miles out to _wherever_ Lance is. Your standard in-country teleport is two time ten to the third, Sol.” Nina rubbed at her temple, silky-straight silver hair shifting out of the way.

“So that takes us down to ten to the eighteenth power, which means I’m going to need at least fifteen power crystals of _some_ kind, since crystal power compounds, along with a few extra just to keep the whole thing stable. So the teleport is going to cost eighteen times as much as usual because of the sheer _power_ that we’re going to need, and rack that up to something closer to twenty-five just because of how _complex_ the matrix is going to need to be to make sure we end up as close to the targeting seal as possible from this distance. This isn’t going to be a think-and-burn teleport, Sol, this is… I’m going to need to go with you just to make sure this bullshit doesn’t _destabilize and deatomize you_.”

Marisol took a few steps closer and patted Nina on the shoulder. “Do you need a hug or something?”

“If it were _anyone_ but you, Sol, I wouldn’t even be attempting this,” Nina grumbled. “The tracking seal was easier. Here.”

She handed over a wooden plaque of some kind, and Marisol took a closer look to realize that it was actually a very thin box made of exceptionally dark wood, sealed shut with glue.

“The matrix is inside. Send it along to Lance, add some instructions to place it somewhere open and unobstructed that won’t get us shot at once we try to teleport in.” Nina closed her eyes and blew out a slow sigh, cheeks puffed out. “Your life is ridiculous and I hate you.”

“Bitch, you’d still be mortal if I hadn’t gotten you a date with freakin’ _Hecate_.”

“And I will forever be grateful for that, but also? Hate you. So much.” Nina walked over to the counter and pulled out a set of teleports. “Pretty sure you’re running late now—”

“Uh, _your fault!_ And it’s not even by a lot! _”_

“So here you are, run along. Get out of my shop and all that.” Nina put a hand on Marisol’s back and started pushing her towards the door.

“Wait!” Marisol turned around, because this just really needed to be said. “Lance said he was paying the fae in energy crystals of some kind. If he sends something our way again, I can maybe ask for him to send a few?”

“…see what you can do. Now _go.”_

Marisol gave her a jaunty little salute and burned the first teleport.

About five seconds later, she had her arms full of Arihi Lotulelei.

“Hi.”

“They’re okay,” the woman whispered. “The boys are…”

“In danger, but kind of fine? Yeah. Um… do you have a letter you want to send back or something?” Marisol patted Arihi’s back and pulled away. “Kinda got a time-limit, Arihi.”

“Yes, yes, I… we wrote one each, they’re both in this envelope. Post-scripts for Lance, too.” Arihi pushed the envelope into her chest. “Tell me if they respond.”

“Of course,” Marisol said, smiling as well as she could. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging, not on something like this.”

Arihi hugged her again. “They’re in a _war_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” Marisol ran a hand through Arihi’s curls.

“They’re barely adults, Marisol,” Arihi whispered.

Marisol winced. “I mean, I know Hunk turned eighteen recently, but… not the same thing, right?”

Arihi nodded, silent.

“…especially since you missed it?”

“Of course, child,” Arihi sighed, pulling away a little to give Marisol a Look.

“Man, that’s just… yeah. That sucks.” Marisol hugged Arihi again, just a moment longer, and then stepped back with a sigh. “Time limit, sorry.”

“Good luck,” she said, and Marisol skipped off to Arizona again.

She was back in Iverson’s office. He looked more or less composed, but that whiskey bottle was looking much, much emptier than earlier. The glass was gone, too, and… yeah, that was definitely a faint lip marking on the rim.

The man had been drinking directly from the bottle, then. Marisol couldn’t really blame him.

“A reply,” he said, pushing forward an envelope made of crisp beige paper. “And I expect I’ll be calling my superiors at some point in the near future about the…magical oversights.”

“I can probably pass along a number for the best person to call?” Marisol offered.

Iverson raised the eyebrow over his uninjured eye. “I think I’ll risk the chain of command.”

“As a lazy tailor would say… suit yourself,” Marisol said, reaching forward to take the envelope. “I’ll tell you if the kids get in touch again, yeah?”

Iverson nodded slowly, his attention already back on the letter and pictures that lay on the desk; the group picture and the one where Lance and Keith were very clearly not human.

“You did your best?” Marisol tried.

“I’ve never been good with students that are unusual in some way. I’m not a teacher, either; I haven’t had any of that training. I’m here to run the facility overall, not to be an educator or mentor. An orphan that was grieving the loss of his second family, and a student who only got in on a stroke of luck after the former washed out? I didn’t handle either of those boys correctly. My _best_ was not, in any way, actually good.” Iverson looked up at her through red-rimmed eyes; she couldn’t tell if he’d been crying recently or if it was the alcohol. “They are in a warzone, years before they should be, and I can’t help but think I should have been better able to stop them.”

“You couldn’t have stopped them,” Marisol said. “At least, not Lance. He can do the smoke thing too, and Pidge was more than determined, and Keith was already living off-base.”

“Because of _my_ actions,” Iverson said. Marisol waited for an explanation, but the man didn’t expand on the claim. “Don’t you have a schedule to keep to?”

“I mean, yeah, but… whatever. See ya, I guess?” Marisol escaped through the window again.

Colleen Holt was waiting for her, unsurprisingly. There _was_ a letter in her hands, along with a large yellow envelope.

“Hi,” Marisol said, already feeling awkward after Iverson. She pointed at the thicker envelope. “That’s… the medicine?”

“Along with all the information I could find on it. With luck, there’s something on that Castle that can synthesize more.” There was a glint in Colleen’s eyes, something that had been missing when Marisol first showed up. A spark of life, of determination, of… _something_ that hadn’t been there earlier.

Learning that her daughter was alive and mostly well probably had a lot to do with it.

“I’ll be going, then.” Marisol said, taking a step back and off the porch. “They might send something back, so I’ll come by with the replies if we get them.”

Colleen nodded, and didn’t close the door until Marisol was out of sight.

Mrs. Shirogane met her with a small stack of letters in hand, in picture-perfect envelopes that weren’t even wrinkled, save for the one that was bulging a little thicker than the rest.

“See that Takashi gets these,” she said.

“Will do, ma’am.” _Fuck._

“…you don’t need to call me that,” Mrs. Shirogane said, her voice colored with amusement.

“It just kind of slipped out,” Marisol admitted. “You’re an intimidating woman.”

“For a human civilian?”

“For _anyone_ ,” Marisol said. “Which is why I’ll be going now, before I make a fool of myself.”

“Hayley’s waiting for you,” Mrs. Shirogane informed her, and then turned back to go inside. Faintly, Marisol heard her speaking as the door closed. “Emiko, did you start your math homework yet? I know you didn’t do it last night.”

Hayley was just as gorgeous as she’d been the first time Marisol stopped by, but the red-rimmed eyes were a new addition.

“This is all legit, then?”

“Well, yeah. Far as I can tell. Did you want proof, or…?” Marisol trailed off. “I don’t have much time.”

“Just… if you can do something to prove magic is real? It might make believing in the rest easier.”

“Done. Look at my eyes.” Marisol leaned forward and closed her eyes after a moment, shifting them. She opened them after a moment, slit-pupiled, and blinked sideways with the nictitating membrane. “Good enough?”

“Um,” Hayley stared at her, wide-eyed. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we’re good.”

“Awesome.” Marisol straightened and shifted back to full human form. “See you if we get a reply?”

“Do you have any contact information so I can check in?” Hayley asked.

“…knew I was forgetting something,” Marisol muttered. “I can give you my phone number or something. Can you get it to the others?”

“I’d have to know who ‘the others’ are, other than the Shirogane family,” Hayley said, though she pulled out her phone and handed it over with the New Contact screen open.

“Colleen Holt and Commander Iverson from the Galaxy Garrison. Mrs. Shirogane’s probably met both.” Marisol said, putting her information in.

“You can call her Minako, y’know.”

“She scares me.”

“… _really?”_

“I feel like I have to try really hard to meet her approval, and I barely know her. That’s intimidating, dude.” Marisol shuddered dramatically.

Hayley snorted. “Okay, then. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Bye~!”

“Goodbye.”

Marisol headed home.

o.o.o.o.o

“Just need to add a postscript…” Marisol muttered, scribbling out the request for energy crystals for Nina. “And then we’re good to go.”

“Five minutes,” Rosa said, and laughed when Marisol stuck her tongue out at her. “That any way to treat your Tía Rosa?”

“We’re not even _related_ ,” Marisol griped. “You just got turned a few decades before I was born and _didn’t leave_.”

“Aw, is someone jealous that I have seniority?” Rosa teased.

“Fuck you,” Marisol muttered.

“Language, the kids are in the next room,” Rosa admonished, dropping into the seat next to her. “Why do you want crystals anyway?”

“Nina thinks she can set up a teleportation matrix to zero in on the tracking seal I’m sending along, but she needs a lot of crystals and shit to power it.” Marisol packed up her letter and slid it into the extra-large envelope they were using to send everything along as one whole package. “So I’m asking Lance to send some along, since the aliens he’s with apparently have tons to spare.”

“Energy crystals to spare? Wouldn’t that be something,” Rosa laughed.

“Hey, you saw that mention of the… Balmera, was it? Maybe that’s it, like they could get a bunch of small Balmera crystals while they were there. Whatever it was, he used it to trade for a message home, so the fae at least consider it a valid payment…”

“Which means it’s probably something compatible with magic,” Rosa finished. “Huh. Kinda wondering what that Balmera thing looks like.”

“You could ask for pictures,” Marisol suggested. “Wouldn’t be that hard.”

“Nah, I’ll just look at the crystals if he sends some along. I’d like a look at alien energy sources. Seems like I could pull a few years out of them if I ran the experiments right.” Rosa mused. “Possibly a few _decades_ , if they’re different enough.”

“ _Nerd_ ,” Marisol whispered, picking up the large envelope and heading towards the door.

“Says the girl who got into a real-life knife fight over an MMORPG.” Rosa snorted.

“Listen, first of all, _Gaius started it_ , and second of all, World of Warcraft is _very important to me_.”

“You got stabbed for a computer game,” Rosa said. “I’m not saying I don’t understand, but listen: you got stabbed. Because you got into a fight about _World of Warcraft._ You are _absolutely_ a nerd.”

“It’s serious business!” Marisol insisted, faking her own offense as she walked backwards to the door. “And again, the fight was with freaking _Gaius_. You know the situation there.”

“Unfortunately,” Rosa said under her breath.

There was a knock at the door. Marisol turned to answer, still smiling.

That smile disappeared when she saw who was on the other side.

“…are you _shitting_ me?”

“Be that the way to greet one’s past love, little sunflower?” The male fae on the other side asked, grinning wide with teeth just a little too thin and sharp to be human. “I may have taken care to pull some old favors so I might take this case as mine own.”

“Love’s a strong word for what we had,” Marisol said. “And we both know you’re more than high enough in the courts to avoid needing to use favors to make the lesser fae do as you want.”

Puck kept smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing that top scene, I didn't have a plan for what Shiro's grandmother was going to be like. I was just planning on letting the fic carry me where it would and letting the character unfold for herself. Upon actually writing her, I've realized that the answer is something along the lines of "Minerva McGonagall, but muggle."
> 
> For those who are looking at the clearly Japanese surname and the blonde description and being concerned: Hayley bleaches her hair.
> 
> If we're relating any of the named characters here to people in the picture from the mind meld episode, then Marisol would be the girl in the white dress at the end, and Rosa would be the stern-looking woman in uniform at the other end, and Teo and Diana would obviously be the kids. I... didn't actually plan on anyone other than Teodoro and Diana having a counterpart in the picture, but if you want to picture people from there, go ahead.
> 
> Calling the kids "diablito" is like... the longest-running joke in the family. It's slang that means "little rascal," and is used for mischievous kids. More literally, it translates to "little devil," so of COURSE the Latinx family of demons is going to snicker at every chance they get to use it.
> 
> There's an explanation for Nina's hair, too, but you can probably guess that one with what details I've already provided.
> 
> Yes, that's a Phineas and Ferb reference. Nobody judge.
> 
> More info on how the family is structured, along with some hints at Marisol's bullshit that I PROMISE is going to be relevant, though the Puck thing I kind of wavered on including. Feels like a bit much, honestly, but... whatever. Too late to change it now.  
> (The WoW stabbing is going to be expanded on in the future. There's a whole... THING there.)
> 
> "Sunflower" is a frequent mistranslation for "Marisol." The actual word for sunflower is "girasol," but Sunflower makes for a decent nickname around the fae.


	17. Helenium and Old Dittany of Crete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things suddenly make a LOT more sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made my beta cry twice with this chapter. In the interest of fairness, since I don't know if this is just because my beta had more time to get invested in the situation, I'm going to make a wager with all you lovely readers: if you cry, you'll leave a review telling me why (along with, hopefully, any other sentiments you have regarding the chapter). If you don't cry... uh, bragging rights?
> 
> I'm actually really nervous about the potential reception for this chapter, since it's such a major divorce from canon.

Lance was sitting on the floor in full demon form, arms wrapped around his knees, and watching the center of the salt circle. He was closer to the edge, violin at his side, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. Not in the way that got everyone killed wrong, but just… off. Wrong. Bad.

“Brooding,” Pidge said pointedly.

“For a _reason_ ,” Lance insisted. “I just… I have a bad feeling.”

“Are your bad feelings usually accurate?” Pidge asked.

“Fifty-fifty,” Lance admitted. “Not like Hunk’s.”

“I think we’re all a little anxious, dude,” Hunk said. “But if you say you have a bad feeling…”

“I don’t know what it’s about,” Lance said. “Just—”

He stopped talking as he saw a wisp of green smoke come into existence above the center of the circle, and rose to his feet. He kept his knees bent, weight on his toes, nervous despite himself.

It was a different fae from before, but the face was still familiar.

“Well, I hadn’t expected Robin Goodfellow to take the place of the fairie messenger we’d thought to hire,” Lance mused aloud, taking a slow step to the side. His heart felt like it was about to pound out of his chest, so he stopped it dead. It had been a while since he’d had to date his speaking style, and he was sure it sounded rough to more practiced ears.

“I’d heard that the little flower I’d once called mine own had taken part in something far greater than the little planet you call home. And what choice does Puck have but to take the place of lesser fae when an opportunity as such comes a’knocking?”

“An opportunity to see the farthest reaches of existence,” Lance scrambled for words, for a properly poetic way to say what he needed to say, “Species you’d not known existed, magics you’d not yet encountered, or perhaps something else?”

“Perhaps,” Puck said, grinning. “I expect you are questioning your sister’s taste in romantic partners once more, Lazuli.”

Lance ignored the quickened breaths from his friends. “I am questioning many things. Among them there are but a few regarding yourself.”

“Yet still, there is something,” Puck pointed out.

“Questions you already found for yourself,” Lance responded immediately. “I digress. I seem to remember a promised reply…”

Puck laughed and pulled out an envelope. “Little incubus, do you expect to rid yourself of me that easily?”

“The package means much to me,” Lance said carefully. “Your presence is not unwelcome, but I’ve concerns that are not yours.”

“Well, let not this Puck be made a liar of,” the grin was still there, still so utterly _fae_ that Lance didn’t dare look away. “To your sister I did a promise leave, that I would bring these to you and then yet more away and back to her three hours hence.”

“Let the promise remain unbroken, then,” Lance said, holding out a hand to take the package.

“But of course,” Puck said, and passed it over. “Your family does engage in the oddest activities.”

And then he turned to the others, still smiling, and Lance cursed internally.

“Some human, some not, yet all so very, very… _crucial_.”

The word curled through the air like dark smoke, and Lance spoke before he could second-guess himself. “And mine.”

“Oh?” Puck asked, turning to him. “Have they themselves been told that?”

“They are mine in this sense, as I am theirs in others.” Lance licked his lips, slow and deliberate and contemplative, all to hide how very nervous he was. “No question exists, not there.”

“How very sweet,” Puck remarked, his smile growing still further and _no, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t okay, this wasn’t—_ “Three hours, little incubus.”

He dissolved into smoke, and Lance waited a single long moment, not breathing, or letting his heart beat, or moving at all.

“Lance?” Hunk called carefully from the couches. “Was that—”

Lance fell to his knees and clutched at the envelope. He sucked in a deep breath, restarted his heart, and became very aware of how much he was trembling. “Puck. Robin Goodfellow. Right hand to Titania and Oberon, Queen and King of the Seelie Court, and one of the most powerful and highest-ranking fae in existence as a result. The King and Queen _usually_ change out every two or three centuries, though some end up ruling for a lot longer, like the one that stepped down less than a decade ago. Titania and Oberon are more names than King or Queen, but they’re titles that are passed down to allow some level of familiarity without revealing real names. Puck doesn’t, though. Puck is the right hand now. He was the right hand in Shakespeare’s time. He was the right hand when my breed of incubus first came into existence. He’s dangerous and terrifying and also Marisol’s ex-boyfriend. They only lasted a few weeks, but it was a thing that happened.”

“…what the _shit_ ,” Pidge said, hopping over the edge of the couch and scrambling over. “Does this mean we were in danger?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. He was interested, but not _that_ interested, so at least there’s that.” Lance rubbed one hand over his upper arm, like he was trying to warm himself up. The movement helped focus him in a little. “I think he just wanted to see me squirm.”

“Okay. The whole sunflower and Lazuli thing was, uh, about the nicknames you give to the fae because giving them real names is dangerous?” Pidge guessed, and then whooshed out a sigh when Lance nodded jerkily. “Okay. And the whole ‘mine’ thing?”

Lance licked his lips. “It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it, then.” Shiro’s voice came from the couches. He looked concerned, though. Not frustrated. That was… that was good. “You’ve proven you can do it before.”

“It’s, uh… you guys are human. Keith is half-Galra, and Allura and Coran are Altean, and that’s all really… you don’t fit into the supernatural world’s existing patterns, so they’re probably lumping you in with the humans. And that’s… dangerous, in a lot of ways.” Lance opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to figure out how to continue. The fingers of his right hand dug into his bicep, tight and unforgiving, and he had to consciously avoid crumpling the envelope with his left. He kept talking, because this time, the sound of his own voice was enough to keep him from going back and freaking out over _Puck_ being there. “You don’t know the supernatural world at all, but you’re being dragged into it. Without magic of your own or some kind of supernatural heritage, it’s going to be hard to make anyone take you seriously, and… and if they see you as a standard mortal, they’ll see you as an _easy target_.”

“It’s safer to be associated with someone that has standing,” Hunk said, after it became clear that Lance was having trouble continuing. “If he claims that we’re linked to him, it’s a sign that someone in the supernatural community cares enough to get in the way if someone tries to target you. He’s protection from other magicals, basically.”

“It would be easier if I could mark you somehow, but that would involve scarring bites, and I don’t think that’s something you guys want to have happening when our only interactions with the fae right now are all through me and the messages.” Lance hesitated, then pushed himself to his feet. “So, who wants to see what we got in the mail?”

“Subtle,” Pidge snorted, but she clung to his side and eyed the envelope like it was worth its weight in gold.

“Alright, here we go.” Lance opened the envelope and started pulling out envelopes. Someone had considerately tied them up into little stacks according to who was supposed to get what, so it wasn’t that hard. He did pause when he got to Keith’s, though. “Uh… dude? Iverson wrote back.”

Keith stared at the crisp white envelope at the top of the short little stack that Lance had in his hand. “… _why?”_

“Fuck if I know? Read it and find out,” Lance said, tossing the three envelopes Keith’s way. “Hunk, you’ve got three. Pidge has just the one, but it’s big, Shiro’s got, like… four? And this stack is mine because my family is huge. Also, my parents apparently sent letters for Allura and Coran, so… here? I don’t know if you have a way to translate them, though. Looks like they sent at least one letter per person, actually. That’s… not as surprising as it should be.”

Allura stared at the envelope that Lance tossed her, turning it over in her hands before looking over at Coran. “Do we _have_ anything to translate human into Altean?”

“English,” Pidge corrected absentmindedly, ripping open the larger envelope her mother had sent her. “Humans have way, _way_ more than just one language. The letter is probably written in English. Unless they went with Spanish?”

“Probably English,” Lance confirmed. “Just beca—”

Pidge screamed.

It was not, in fact, a scared scream. Nobody scrambled for a weapon, though the sudden adrenaline spike was unavoidable.

“Wh—”

“Hunk!” Pidge yelled, completely ignoring everyone else. “My mom sent my HRT stuff!”

Hunk’s eyes widened. “Oh man. Do you think we could—”

“We could use it as a basis to manufacture more!” Pidge said, and then rifled through some of the papers. “And she looked up and printed a bunch of stuff on how HRT works and what testosterone is actually made of so we can figure yours out _ten times_ more easily now, too.”

Lance watched as Hunk and Pidge took seats next to each other, taking the moment to run through the things that Mrs. Holt had sent their way. He gave them a minute, then coughed into his fist. “Uh, guys? We’ve got like… three hours. Letters and those communicators are kind of a priority, right?”

“Shit.” Pidge looked down at the letter that her mom had sent. “I got distracted by the science.”

“Hey, at least you just have the one letter to speed through. I’ve got _twelve_.” Lance waved his stack through the air. “Twelve letters, plus replies, in three hours.”

“…you should maybe get on that,” Pidge acknowledged as Lance took a seat and opened the one on top. “Allura, Coran, I can probably get some kind of translator in place once I’m done here?”

Allura nodded. “That’s acceptable. You five should… Shiro?”

Lance looked up from the short little thing that Diana had sent, with all the skill a child her age could, because the worry in Allura’s voice was palpable.

It was pretty clear why, once he saw Shiro’s face, because for the first time in the half year that Lance had known him, Shiro was crying. Not sobbing or anything, but there were tears making tracks down his face, and his human hand was covering his mouth to suppress his harsh breathing. There was even a splotchy redness over his cheeks.

Lance hadn’t seen Shiro look like this, not ever.

Keith moved first, sitting down next to Shiro and looking at the letter he had in his metal hand. Quietly, he said, “Oh.”

“Keith?” Lance said carefully. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“…yeah.”

“Is someone dead?”

“No. It’s nothing like… this is really something Shiro should tell you himself,” Keith said. “Maybe give him a few minutes.”

“Yeah, uh…” Lance looked around the room, and saw that everyone else looked as lost as he felt.

“Tell us when you’re ready,” Coran said, as helpful as possible. “We’ll read what we’ve gotten until then.”

Lance knew he wasn’t the only one that was giving Shiro concerned glances every few minutes, but he pulled a pile of empty papers and a pen his way, and started drafting responses to his little siblings, thanking them for the Kindle they’d sent, preloaded with a number of things he enjoyed. There was a time limit now that he hadn’t had the first time around, which meant he had to keep things as short and sweet as possible, at least for Diana and Teo.

Lance got through three letters and two replies before Shiro finished reading everything he’d gotten and finally said, “Okay. I can… I can talk now.”

“Yeah?” Lance said, putting his pen down and looking up. He didn’t have to look to know that everyone else was just as attentive as he was.

“Right. I should… probably start from the beginning.” Shiro bit his bottom lip, looking down at the several letters in front of him. “Okay, so Hayley is a friend of mine. Probably my closest friend outside of this team, in some ways. She’s also an ex-girlfriend. We were… fifteen? Fifteen when we met, and most of the relationship was online. The summer after we both turned sixteen, we managed to get together enough time and money for her to come visit me at the Garrison for a few weeks. I was still living in the student quarters, but my grandparents had moved to the States when I joined the program, so she actually stayed in my room there. It was…”

Shiro sighed, and reached for one of the envelopes. He pulled out something that Lance could tell was a photo, though the back was towards him. He stared at it for a long moment before he spoke again, voice strained. “We weren’t as careful as we should have been. This… this is Emiko. My daughter.”

And Shiro put the photo down on the table.

Lance stared in shock for a long moment, the silence stretching around the room as everyone else stayed frozen as well.

“ _What?_ ” Hunk managed to say, and then there was a mad scramble from him and Lance and Pidge to get closer and see the picture, because seriously, _what._

Lance was on the floor on his knees, leaning over the table to stare at the photo that Pidge had been the first to reach, having been already sitting down there. The subject was a little girl with arched bangs and a high ponytail, dressed in some kind of gym uniform and smiling for the camera, baseball bat over her shoulder. Going by the background, this was from some kind of sports day at the elementary school in the town a few miles from the Garrison.

“She’s eight years old,” Shiro said slowly, pulling out the rest of the photos from the envelope and flipping through them. The little girl was in every single one, from what Lance could tell, and Shiro didn’t look away from them. “I was seventeen by the time she was born the next May. We were… too young for a kid. Hayley didn’t want to do an abortion, and was planning on giving any child she had up for adoption. I… I convinced her to let me step in instead. I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready to be a father, but if I was going to have a kid at all, then I wanted to be there for them. Hayley didn’t have the same resources I did, though, and she didn’t feel ready at all, so she agreed only on the condition that I wouldn’t expect her to be a mom, which was honestly fair. Neither of us were ready. I was just stubborn enough to try anyway, and had my grandparents ready to help if necessary, and the Garrison actually has daycares available for students and faculty with children, did you know? So I arranged for some leave around the time she was due, was lucky enough to be present for the birth, and then took her home as soon as it was safe to do it.”

“I’m… I don’t regret any of it.” Shiro swallowed, looking down at the short stack of photos in his hands. He set them down on the table and spread them out. “Emiko’s my daughter, and I love her. She means the world to me. But I’ve missed a lot of her life. Leaving for a few days or weeks to do missions to Mars or the moon was one thing. Kerberos was… I almost turned it down. Chance of a lifetime, but it would have been almost a year away from her. I eventually decided to go, because I could still send videos back and forth, still stay at least a little in contact, right? And it meant a pay raise, which meant a better school for her down the line if she didn’t follow me into the Garrison.”

“And then…” Shiro brought his human hand up to the Galra one, running the palm along it and looking for all the world like he was about to start crying again. “And then we got captured, and there was the Arena, and now _Voltron_ , and it’s been almost two years since I’ve seen her in person. Two birthdays I’ve missed already, and she’s turning nine this May. She’s not even ten years old yet, and I’ve missed almost two whole years of her life. And there’s no way I can go home, not while the Galra Empire is still a danger. I hate this war and I hate not being able to see her, but I can’t go home until I know it’s safe for her.”

“She… I sent her a letter. One for my grandparents, one for Hayley, and one for Emiko. I told her what I could about why I’ve been gone in as much detail as I could without getting child-inappropriate with the violence and torture and whatnot. I tried to apologize for not being there when I really, really should have been, and…” He smiled, even though the tears had started flowing again. “And she replied and she isn’t even _angry_ about me being gone for this long. She’s just… asking about aliens and telling me about how she’s been doing in school and how she’s been trying to do more sports this year and I just…”

Shiro trailed off again, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth again. It didn’t do much to hide the hiccupping, sobbing laughs that accompanied his tears.

Lance wasn’t sure what to do about that, so he turned to Keith. “You knew?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, shrugging. “I met her a year before Shiro left for Kerberos, when I was fourteen. After I dropped out of the Garrison, his grandparents asked me to babysit a few times. They were already raising the third generation of the same family, in their own words, and needed a bit of time off sometimes. I needed pocket money, so I just came over and helped her with her homework and stuff. Talked about Shiro sometimes. She, uh… she calls me Uncle Keith. I told her I’m not old enough to be her uncle, but she doesn’t really care.”

“Why haven’t we heard about her before?” Allura asked. “We… did he not trust us?”

“Habit,” Shiro said, before Keith could say anything, his voice a little rough from crying, though he seemed to be done with the sobbing. There were still some tears. “And just… it hurts. It hurts to think about her and how much of her life I’ve missed.”

“Emiko wasn’t exactly a _secret_ back on Earth,” Keith elaborated. “But with Shiro being as well-known as he was, there was always a chance that people would harass her just for being connected to him, especially since he was a single teen dad. So he kept her out of the eye of the media for her own sake.”

“She gets enough trouble from her classmates,” Shiro said quietly. “She didn’t need the rest of the world getting on her case about it.”

“Now… might not be the best time to mention this,” Lance said. He held up the thin piece of wood that had come in the envelope. “But Marisol sent me a tracking seal type thing? And knowing her best friend, there’s a good chance that Nina will figure out a magical teleport that can get them this far if we send them some Balmera crystals to act as a power source. So, uh… they can maybe bring her to visit? If you’re okay with my family knowing about her?”

Shiro’s mouth fell open, and then he looked down at the pictures on the table again. “I… I’d like that. If it’s safe.”

“She’ll probably bring along other people, too. Maybe Pidge’s mom? I don’t know. She’ll probably come alone the first time, just to make sure it’s safe.” Lance shifted on his knees and looked over at Pidge, who was still frowning at the photos. “Hey short shit, what’s wrong?”

“My dad and brother probably knew about her, didn’t they?” Pidge said.

“I think your mother did, too, but she never really made it clear,” Shiro said.

“I’m only six years older than her,” Pidge muttered, staring at the photos. “That’s… kind of weird to think about. I’m closer to Shiro’s _daughter’s_ age than Shiro’s.”

Lance looked over as soft footsteps came closer, and saw that Coran and Allura had finally made their way over. Allura hesitated, then took a spot next to Lance on the floor, her dress pooling about her. Coran opted to take the free seat at Shiro’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing.

Hunk was the first one to come to the obvious conclusion.  “Coran, did you ever…”

“Not as such,” Coran said. “But I can say that my situation was close enough, in some ways, to empathize here.”

“Is this why you said that us calling you ‘Space Dad’ makes you uncomfortable?” Pidge asked.

Shiro bit his lip and nodded.

“I was already planning on not saying it again, but now it’s off the table for sure,” Lance muttered. Then he spoke up to ask, “And the reason you were so concerned about me and Allura sleeping together?”

“I’ve been there,” Shiro said. “And… it was hard enough back on Earth, with a support network and all the help I needed. Having a kid out here in the middle of a war would just make things unnecessarily difficult for everyone, but especially the two of you.”

“You don’t, ah, you don’t have to worry about that,” Allura assured him. “I have my own precautions, as does Lance.”

“He told me that, yeah.” Shiro dropped his gaze back down at the table. “So… I should probably work on a reply, in case those communicators end up not working.”

“The communicators _should_ work,” Hunk said. “Unless the transportation method makes them conk out, but that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, actually, can we get like… twenty small-ish Balmera crystals? Or less but larger? For the magical teleport that my sister’s trying to get organized?” Lance grinned hopefully at Coran and Allura.

“I can get your letters translated by the time you get back,” Pidge offered. “Not by hand, because fuck that, but like… alien Google Translate.”

“Please tell me it’s a better translation than actual Google Translate,” Lance asked. “ _Please_.”

“It’s done using the Castle’s translation matrix, so… it won’t get idioms or slang or words without Altean counterparts, but it’ll probably be enough. Anything that doesn’t make sense, I can answer verbally.”

“Might just be easier for someone to read it out loud,” Keith said. “I already finished my replies, so…”

“…that works too!” Pidge said brightly. “Saves everyone some time. By the way, the whole Iverson thing?”

Keith made a face. “He cares way more about what happened to us than I thought and it’s weird. He apologized and said he was glad that we’re safe and it’s _weird._ ”

“Apologized?” Hunk asked.

(Coran left after squeezing Shiro’s shoulder one last time and getting a nod from him in return. _I’ll be okay_ , Shiro’s look said, even if Lance only caught it out of the corner of his eye.)

“For a lot of stuff? He said he didn’t want to get into the details of why he wanted to apologize to anyone other than me for privacy reasons, but he did mention that he was never actually fooled by Pidge’s disguise?”

“Bullshit!” Pidge accused.

“No, apparently you look so much like your brother that he almost had a heart attack the first time he saw you as Pidge,” Keith said, holding up the letter in question an waving it through the air like it would prove his point for him. “And then he decided to go all ‘keep your enemies closer’ and leave you mostly alone because he figured you’d do less damage listening to aliens on the rooftop than you would hacking in from the outside.”

Pidge’s teeth clicked as she snapped her jaw shut and looked away, huffing. “Fine. What did he want to apologize to _you_ for?”

“…remember _why_ I got kicked out of the Garrison?” Keith asked.

“You punched Iverson in the face,” Lance said.

“He always phrased it as you having ‘a problem with authority,’” Hunk tacked on.

“Did I ever tell you _why_ I punched him?” Keith asked.

“I figured you were just as tired of the lies about Kerberos as I was,” Pidge said.

“So that’s… kind of true. I caused enough shit about Kerberos that Iverson tried to schedule me for a mandatory psych evaluation.” Keith scratched the back of his head. “I punched him after I found out, because that was basically my final sign that he would rather write me off as crazy than acknowledge that there was something fishy about Kerberos, right? He was calling me crazy for saying Shiro might not be dead.”

“I feel like there’s more to the story,” Shiro said.

“Well, according to this letter, he was trying to use the eval as an excuse to make me go to grief counseling. Which is… a lot less ‘I think you’re crazy and/or on the right track about a cover-up, and want an excuse to kick you out for that’ and a lot more ‘Jesus Christ, this kid needs some help before he falls apart’ than I thought,” Keith admitted.

“…maybe you should write back?” Hunk suggested.

“I did,” Keith admitted. “It was weird. This whole thing is weird. I’m just going to read Allura’s letter for her now.”

o.o.o.o.o

They couldn’t use the communicators often. The encryption wasn’t very strong, and they charged themselves off of the quintessence in the air, which meant they needed time to recharge between uses. But it was enough for a call every other week or so.

Lance sat at his own console as, one by one, calls came through. Pidge’s involved tears. So did Hunk’s. Lance’s own didn’t, just someone calling him a dumbass and asking where he got off worrying them all like that. But behind him, he could hear a young voice, younger than almost anything else in the room save for Lance’s little siblings.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Shiro laughed, and Lance snuck a look back to see that he was crying again. “I missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main twist of this chapter was not in place from the very beginning, but it's definitely been in the works for a while. I just kind of woke up a week or so after I started the fic and went 'oh hey, this is actually an interesting idea.' I talked it over with my beta, and they agreed that it fit the concept and structure of the story pretty well. So I went back to unposted but finished chapters to tweak a few things to make it fit more, and... here we are. Teen dad Shiro and all.
> 
> I'd have gone with Lapis as Lance's nickname, but, uh, no. That would just be opening myself up to Steven Universe jokes, and I do not want that. Do not make a Steven Universe joke. I don't want to hear it. (This isn't sarcasm. I really, _really_ don't want to hear SU jokes. I don't want to see the show mentioned in the comments at all, even if you're just asking me why I don't want to hear them. Just... don't do the thing, please. Do not even acknowledge this paragraph, at all.)
> 
> EDIT Sep 27, 2017: I wrote this chapter before Dream Daddy came out, and I'm a little "!!!" about how much Emiko's descriptions resembles Craig's twins now that I've seen all of... that.


	18. Blue Periwinkle and Cabbage Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith attempts to be a bro friend for Allura. He's not very good at it, but he's TRYING. He's trying VERY HARD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: alcohol, references to tentacle goo sex, and references to sex in general
> 
> This is a breather chapter, as is the omake that you're getting instead of a proper chapter for nineteen.

Keith walked past the common room, and then backtracked to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted what he’d seen. As it turned out, he hadn’t, because Allura and Lance were indeed making out on the couch.

Huh.

Allura was usually more insistent on finding a less public space than that. Sure, Lance didn’t have much of a sense of shame, so he was usually anything _but_ embarrassed when Keith suggested they make out somewhere public, but Allura was definitely more private. Maybe she was getting more comfortable with the team? Or with the idea that some PDA wasn’t as inappropriate as she thought, at least to humans?

Well, it wasn’t like she was available for comment. Actually, the level of PDA was pretty tame, all things considered. She and Lance were sitting next to each other and kissing, and while it looked like there was definitely some tongue involved, there wasn’t much else. No roaming hands below the shoulders, no sitting on each other, no breathy whines or moans, nothing.

It was… something to consider. Lance had suggested a threesome a few weeks ago when he and Allura had first gotten together, but Keith had dismissed the idea pretty quickly. Allura was a girl, which meant Keith wasn’t attracted to her, and Keith was part Galra, which meant that Allura was probably at least uncomfortable with the idea of getting into bed with him. That was pretty fair, honestly, and Keith had come to terms with the fact that her trauma wasn’t going to go away that easily.

But the fact of the matter, at least for Keith, was that he’d been warming up to the threesome idea. Sure, sharing a bed with a girl would be weird as hell, but Lance hadn’t been wrong when he’d said that they wouldn’t have to touch each other sexually, just Lance. And even if something happened incidentally, it wouldn’t be the end of the world? He wasn’t attracted to her, but he wasn’t as grossed out by the thought of touching her as he could have been. He wouldn’t go for a night alone with her, but if a threesome would make Lance happy, and coming into contact with Allura during sex was part of that, then… that wasn’t really an idea that bothered him.

He had no idea how to bring the idea back up, though. Not to Allura. Telling Lance he wasn’t opposed to the idea and then letting Lance talk to Allura was probably the safest option, but it felt too indirect. Like cowardice, kind of, which was a dumb way to look at it, but Keith wasn’t going to lie to himself just because it was a little weird. So the next best option was probably to talk to both of them at the same time, which this was actually a great time for, in the sense that they were together in the same room with no one else around, and terrible in the sense that they were making out and probably wouldn’t appreciate an interruption.

(He considered just walking over and sitting down on the floor between Lance’s knees, offering to suck his dick while he and Allura kept making out, and then pointing out that Lance was the one to suggest a threesome, but that just seemed like it would be poorly received and overall come across as creepy and unnecessary when better options were available.)

It looked like the choice being made for him, though, since Lance noticed him. Probably by smell, but who even knew these days? All Keith knew was that Lance pulled away from Allura and turned to look at Keith, surprise on his face. “Keith?”

Allura went red and squeaked like one of her mice, then immediately looked down at her knees, pulling her hands away from Lance and pushing them down into her lap.

“Right, so, uh, did you need anything?” Lance asked, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head. He was blushing too, though much less than Allura was.

“Zoned out while thinking,” Keith said, which was technically true. “I remembered what you said about having a threesome, and I was going to say that I would be okay with it, but I’m pretty sure that Allura’s still…”

“What?” Allura asked, lifting her head. The redness was fading. “Lance said _what_ about a threesome?”

“Oh boy,” Lance said under his breath. “I was just talking to Keith after he woke up a few weeks ago and he was talking about getting kind of jealous of you taking up some of my time—”

“I wasn’t _jealous_ ,” Keith protested, but Lance kept going like he hadn’t even heard.

“—and I kind of jokingly said that threesomes were an option? But then he pointed out that he’s gay and you’re probably still not okay with the idea of being too close to anyone other than me like this yet, so I shelved the idea. I didn’t expect Keith to actually come around to it,” Lance admitted. “I figured it was just something that was never going to happen anyway, so I didn’t bother bringing it up with you.”

“Oh,” Allura said, face going red again. “That’s. That’s certainly something. I don’t… I don’t know if—”

“You can definitely say no,” Keith said. “I would have a week ago. There’s no judgement here.”

“I’ll need some time to think about it,” Allura compromised. “It’s not something I’ve considered. I don’t know how I feel about it, and I don’t feel like I know you well enough to try this.”

“And part of it’s probably about me being part-Galra?” Keith prompted.

Allura flinched, but didn’t deny it. “Working on a team with you and trusting you with my life in battle and even being friends is a little different from… what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I know.” Keith shrugged. “But hey, if part of the concern is that we don’t know each other well enough, there’s always something to try, right?”

He lingered for a moment longer, then lifted a hand and waved. “Bye.”

Hopefully he hadn’t ruined the mood too much for them.

o.o.o.o.o

Keith took a deep breath before he went into the control room and spoke.

“You’re coming with us tonight.”

Allura looked up from her console, right into his eyes. “What?”

“You were really disappointed about not being able to come to the mall, right?” He crossed his arms and looked away. “I’m sure Lance has something you can wear, so you can come to the bar with us instead.”

“I have to do more research on Lotor,” Allura said immediately. “You go ahead and—”

“No. You haven’t had a proper day off in all the time I’ve known you, unless you were sick or something.” Keith frowned at her. “So find something suitable or talk to Lance, and come with us.”

“I’m fine,” Allura insisted. “Go without me.”

“One night away from the war isn’t going to hurt you,” Keith said. “We’re going out. Come with us.”

“Delaying our actions by even a single night could result in losses of life that I prefer not to think about,” Allura argued back. “Skipping a night would mean delaying the war.”

“And what if you burn out because you’ve been pushing yourself too hard?” Keith asked. “Because I tried to say the same thing about training against the bot as often as I did, and Shiro got on my case about overworking myself.”

Allura looked down at the floor, kind of looking like she was pouting. “That’s not… the same thing. You train physically. I’m just organizing information.”

“Information that a lot of other people are looking at, too. Your brain needs a rest sometimes, just like your body.” Keith shifted his weight to his other leg. “Look, it’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone, not counting Lance, right? Use this as an opportunity to get lucky. I’ll be your wingman, even.”

“My what?”

o.o.o.o.o

“This is very strange,” Allura muttered, clutching at her drink like it was a lifeline. “Are you _sure_ this is appropriate dress for here?”

“Allura,” Pidge said, “You’re here to try and get laid, not level diplomatic relations with alien royalty. Trust me, leggings and a crop top are _fine._ ”

“I agree,” Hunk said.

“Same,” Keith added.

Allura turned to Shiro, who shrugged. “It’s honestly kind of tame compared to what a lot of girls on Earth would be wearing in the same situation.”

“Alright,” Allura sighed, cupping one elbow. “I’m just… very much not used to this situation.”

“It’s okay. I hadn’t been to a bar in years before I left for Kerberos,” Shiro offered. “So you’re not the only one that’s out of practice.”

Keith shrugged, because he wasn’t exactly an _expert_ at this, not like Lance was, but it wasn’t exactly new to him, either. He headed towards the bar and eyed it, looking at bottle after bottle, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Maybe if he was lucky…

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing at a bottle that looked like it was in a human language. Not English, but… something. He could only see the ingredients list in the back, but he thought he could make out some… French? Or Italian? Something European, at any rate.

“Poison,” the bartender grunted.

“Ethanol?” Keith asked.

“The only people able to drink that without dying so far were _Kerrissian_. Unless you think you can—”

Keith passed over some GAC. “I’ll take the whole bottle.”

“This isn’t enough to cover costs, kid. Also, I feel like I should stress this: _it’s poison. Ethanol. You’ll die._ ”

“First of all, what are you chances of selling that to anyone else before it turns into vinegar? Second of all, I’m half-human, and humans have some of the highest ethanol tolerances in the universe. I’ll be affected, sure, but it’s definitely not going to kill me unless I go way overboard.” Keith wiggled the GAC a little. “Come on. I promise I won’t die.”

The bartender eyed him, then snatched the GAC away and slid the bottle over. “It’s your funeral.”

“Nah, I’m going to die in battle or not at all,” Keith said, picking it up. A closer look showed that the bottle _did_ have one English word on it: whiskey.

“Bingo,” Keith whispered, and made his way back to Allura and Shiro. “Where did Pidge and Hunk go?”

“Pidge saw a robot and wanted a closer look. Hunk followed to make sure she didn’t get into trouble,” Shiro said. “Is that…”

“Whiskey,” Keith said. “I’m not sure why they have French whiskey all the way out here, but it’s not like anyone else was going to buy it, so I took the whole bottle.”

“You can’t drink a whole bottle of whiskey, Keith,” Shiro said. “You _will_ die.”

“I’m going to drink a _bit_ , and then store the rest. I’m pretty sure Hunk can use alcohol while he’s cooking? And who knows, maybe you’ll want a drink once in a while or something,” Keith pointed out.

“I’d like to refrain from trying to rely on alcohol as a coping mechanism,” Shiro said, and Keith realized what the danger on that end was.

“Oh. Right.” Keith looked down at the bottle in his hands and shrugged. “Well, I don’t think I need to worry about that.”

“I’d really prefer if you didn’t drink at all.”

“I’ve had alcohol maybe four times in the past… what, six months?” Keith wiggled the bottle. “That’s ridiculously low compared to what other kids my age are doing, Shiro. Let me have this.”

Shiro sighed and shook his head. “I’m just… going to go outside.”

“Yeah?”

“The crowd is getting to be a bit much. I’ll head back up to the Castle and wait for you guys to come back so Coran can get some sleep. Send a message if you won’t be coming back for some reason,” Shiro said, knocking back his own (non-alcoholic, of _course_ ) drink and turning for the door.

Keith looked over at Allura, who was still treating the glass in her hand like a shield.

“Do you want my jacket?”

“What?”

“You look really uncomfortable, and I know my jacket isn’t all that long, but if it helps you feel more covered or something…” Keith shrugged. “Just a suggestion.”

“No, the clothing is… it’s new, but it’s not that strange. I’m just… this atmosphere isn’t something I’m accustomed to.” Allura gestured around. “I don’t know how to speak to people in this setting.”

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “Well, you’re talking to me, aren’t you?”

“I suppose,” she allowed.

“So…” he pulled her away to a barstool and hopped up, gesturing for her to do the same. “Let’s people-watch.”

“People-watch?” Allura asked. “Is that really th—”

“Yeah, let’s start easy and people-watch. Like, what’s Lance doing right now?”

Allura craned her neck, growing almost imperceptibly to get a better vantage point. “He’s dancing with… oh dear.”

“Something wrong?” Keith asked, following Allura’s line of sight.

“He’s dancing with a Huronian. I’m… I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose, given that this is Lance, but I wouldn’t have expected Huronians to be something that humans would find appealing,” Allura explained.

“Why not?” Keith asked.

“They’re, well… All of their appendages are tentacles.” Allura was blushing again. “And they aren’t solid beings, but made of some kind of blue goo held together by quintessence, which makes them glow.”

Keith considered that for a moment. He promptly decided that “Lance can handle his own sex life.”

“Agreed,” Allura said, moving her gaze to a different part of the room. “Hunk and Pidge seem to be engaged in some kind of argument with locals, though it doesn’t seem to be heading towards violent.”

“Just heated robot talk?” Keith asked, getting a nod from Allura. “Okay. Now find something to keep talking about.”

“Like…”

“You know more alien species than I do. See a person, point them out, tell me something about the culture.” Keith let his eyes drift over the crowd. “Like… the pale green one with the orange tentacles for hair. What’s their story?”

“Gouvossic. They live off of a primarily liquid diet of varying viscosities,” Allura said.

“Greyish skin with four arms and purple curls?”

“Lilityphian. Actually related to the Unilu, several million years back. They’re known for their glasswork and vibrant art; their eyes register more colors than most, but less vividly, so their art is usually much more saturated than most species.”

Keith kept this up for a few more minutes, waiting until Allura was at least somewhat more relaxed.

“What’s your type?” He asked.

“What?”

“What do you look for in sexual partners?” he clarified. “Gender, height, color, whatever. All I know is that you like interesting ears.”

Allura’s face went a little red. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“I said I’d be your wingman, right? Can’t do that if I don’t know your type,” Keith said, shrugging. “Like… what about the big orange guy in the corner?”

Allura made a face. “Too bulky.”

“Sulfur yellow with the long nose and pink hair?”

“Jysanian. Their sweat is too acidic for extended skin contact with Alteans.”

“Pale blue skin, dark blue hair, fin-like ears?”

Allura followed his line of sight and blushed again. “…maybe.”

“Okay, now go talk to them. Her? Let’s go with ‘her.’”

The look that Allura gave him was near livid. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“B-because I’m… I’m not…” Allura’s blush deepened. “I don’t have to answer that.”

“…uh-huh,” Keith clicked his tongue, considering. Then he grabbed Allura’s hand and got off the stool, pulling her towards the blue alien. “C’mon, you’re going to talk to her.”

Allura dug in her heels and jerked Keith to a stop. “That—that’s not—”

Keith turned around, not letting go of her hand. “Do you think she’s cute?”

“Well. Yes.”

“Are you open to the idea of getting laid tonight?”

“…I’ve had several hours to think it over, and I feel like the answer is still ‘yes.’”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Allura bit her lip and looked over at the alien, then back at Keith. “I am… unused to engaging with people in a casual manner.”

“…so what you’re saying is that you’re too used to being a diplomat or a military commander and forgot how to just talk to people?” Keith asked.

Allura nodded, though she didn’t meet his eyes.

“So now’s a great time to practice. No pressure,” Keith said. “And before you argue that, it’s exactly what Shiro and Lance said to get me to come along the first time.”

Allura frowned at him. “Really.”

“I’m shit at people. Bars aren’t a bad place to practice… unless you start a bar fight, which… I’ve been there. I won’t judge, not on that.” Keith looked down at his hand, still holding Allura’s, and frowned. He looked back up at her. “Look, what if we go over together and I start the conversation _for_ you? The worst thing that can happen is that she rejects you.”

“You just said that you’re bad at socializing as well.”

Keith shrugged. “So?”

Allura kept looking at him, then sighed and stepped forward. “Fine.”

Keith pulled her along to where the blue alien and her friends were. “Just give a small wave to her when I squeeze your other hand.”

“Okay.”

“I’m using a video I saw once as a template.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Probably not,” Keith admitted, though he didn’t feel all that bothered by it. “But it’ll give us a place to start.”

“Oh quiznak,” Allura whispered, just barely audible to Keith.

He ignored her as they finally made their way over to the blue alien’s little group.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello?” The blue alien said, blinking at him. Ooooh, reflective eyes like a cat’s, nice.

“I’m Keith. This is Allura.” Just the slightest bit of introduction…

“Benna,” the pale blue alien said.

“Quia.” Dark purple.

“Dalize.” Pale green with darker freckles.

“Okay, so, Benna… my friend here thinks you’re cute,” Keith said as quickly as he could, and then squeezed Allura’s hand.

She did not wave as planned, given that she was too busy going red again. “Keith!”

“What? You told me you did,” Keith said, and turned back to Benna, who looked more amused than anything. “She was a little nervous about coming over here, but she does think you’re attractive.”

He patted Allura’s hand. “And I said I’d help her come over here and get a conversation started, which I’ve now done, so… bye.”

And so Keith left.

He didn’t feel a lot of guilt about this. His own experiences with exactly this kind of shit had taught him that at some point it didn’t work to keep hiding behind friends anymore, and that the socially awkward had to be tossed into the deep end at _some_ point. So he headed back to the bar, sat back up on the barstool, and looked at his whiskey.

He hopped right back down and headed for Hunk and Pidge.

“—so you should be connecting the injector to—oh, hey Keith.” Hunk looked up from where he was kneeling on the ground, messing with some kind of… device. Keith didn’t try to read into it. “Where are Allura and Shiro?”

“Shiro went home, and I just tried to play wingman for Allura, so she’s talking to some girl she thought was cute right now.” Keith gestured in the direction he’d left them.

“… _you_ were her wingman?” Hunk said dubiously.

“She was nervous.”

“And you managed to get through without stabbing anyone?”

“I’m not _that_ violent,” Keith muttered. “Anyway, you can do cooking stuff with alcohol, right?”

“I mean, it’s usually wines and sherry that are used in sauces, beer for fish, and that sort of thing, but yeah? I can use most alcohols for food without actually making the food alcoholic if I heat it right.” Hunk gave him an odd look. “Did you… magically find booze again?”

Keith took a long drink from his whiskey bottle and corked it in answer. Hunk stared at him, wide-eyed, but accepted the bottle. There were a few long seconds of silence.

“ _How?”_

“My alcohol tolerance is shit and I don’t drink unless we’re doing something like tonight, so I’m definitely not going to finish that? So you can have it and do a… food thing. I guess? I’m not sure how else to put it.” Keith knew what Hunk was asking, but he didn’t really have a good answer on that front.

“Keith, I meant _how did you find booze?”_ Hunk looked down at the bottle. “Is this French? Why is there French booze in a random bar on the other side of the galaxy from home?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. I just found it. Apparently, some species called Kerrissians can digest ethanol with minimal side effects too?”

“This isn’t exactly a well-trafficked region where we can just randomly run into products from Earth, Keith.”

“I don’t have an explanation for why there’s alcohol out here.” Keith shrugged. “I just know that I found the bottle, and bought it.”

“You found a bottle of French booze in space… and bought it… because it was there?”

“It’s not like anyone _else_ is going to get any use out of it,” Keith pointed out.

Hunk tried to bury his face in his hands, but was stopped by the fact that one held a bottle of whiskey while the other held a screwdriver. After a moment, he just sighed. “Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Keith.”

“Oh my god,” Pidge whined. “Will you two shut up and let Hunk get back to the science? Yes, we’ll hold your bottle of creepy French Whiskey while you go do whatever it is that you’re planning to do.”

“Awesome,” Keith said, and gave her a jaunty salute while he turned back to the crowd. He caught sight of Allura after a moment, noted that she was still talking to the Benna, while the other two had mysteriously disappeared. Going by the smile on Allura’s face and the hand tucking her hair behind one ear, the conversation was going well.

Lance was nowhere to be seen, but Keith wasn’t sure if that was just Lance’s flirting skills or Keith’s own lack of height working against him.

Keith scanned the room, spotted a masculine figure with glossy orange skin, and thought, _yeah, that’ll do._

o.o.o.o.o

Allura avoided Keith’s eyes the next morning as she walked into the Castle, the last one to make it in.

“So…” Keith prompted.

“You were right, and it went well,” Allura admitted, pouting. “But I don’t think I’ll be making a habit of it.”

Keith shrugged. “Lance?”

“I… had some fun experimenting.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Pidge asked.

“Lance,” Shiro said, before Lance could do more than open his mouth. “Whatever you’re about to say, ask yourself this: do Coran and I need to hear it?”

Keith bit his lip in a futile attempt to hide his smile as Lance subsided into his seat. “No.”

“I just want to know if it really was a Huronian that you slept with,” Pidge said. “I remember the description in the sentient species guide, and—”

“Yeeeeeup,” Lance popped the ‘p’ and grinned. “I like experimenting with new body types. It’s fun and educational.”

“Ah yes,” Pidge drawled. “Glowing blue tentacle people made of goo are definitely educa—”

“ _Enough_ ,” Shiro said firmly. “If you’re going to have this conversation, do it away from me, and away from the breakfast table. There’s a time and a place, and this isn’t is.”

“…sorry, Shiro.”

Keith shared a look with Hunk and then looked back down at his breakfast.

“So I was thinking,” Hunk said loudly, drawing attention. “That I could probably use the whiskey that Keith found to make some sauces? They’d end up nonalcoholic due to the heating, but I’ve made some before and they can be pretty good…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith's one and only exposure to wingman protocol is the Thomas Sanders vine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXMnupqTayg
> 
> I feel like Allura is probably a little more awkward in casual settings than she likes to admit, despite being perfectly composed and comfortable in military or diplomatic situations. She and Keith are more alike in their approach to people than Allura would like to admit.  
> Also: Keith's wrong, and just being thrown into the deep end does _not_ work for everyone. It works for some people, but he got lucky that it worked for Allura. This was a sign of good luck and bad decision-making on Keith's part.


	19. Omake: The Young Avengers Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the paladins argue about the hotness of relatively obscure comic book characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to include links to relevant pictures of the characters they're arguing about, in case you don't know anything about the comics. If you want to know more, come poke around on my tumblr.
> 
> If you happen to be a fan of Cheung's V1 artwork or aren't comfortable with the idea of someone poking fun at Tommy Shepherd, maaaybe skip this 'chapter.' I'm not as careful as usual about keeping my biases under wraps here.
> 
> Anyways! There's a bit of a ramble in there about Noh-Varr, so I need to lay out some warnings.
> 
> WARNINGS: Mentions of mind control, torture, medical experimentation, and mass murder (all to or by a minor, because Noh's life is a shitshow for a while).

“Bull _shit_ ,” Lance said, slamming a hand down on the table. “That is just… _such_ bullshit.”

“My tastes and your tastes are not the same,” Hunk said. “You asked who I thought the hottest character was, and my answer is [Teddy](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Theodore_Altman_\(Earth-616\)).”

“ _How?”_ Lance whined. “How can you pick _anyone_ other than [Noh-Varr](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Noh-Varr_\(Earth-200080\))? Like, I can maybe see [Kate](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Katherine_Bishop_\(Earth-616\)) or [America](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/America_Chavez_\(Earth-TRN366\)), but anyone else? Sorry, buddy. The space roach wins.”

“You know,” Pidge said from the doorway. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I kind of want to know just based on the fact that I heard something that was almost my name.”

“There’s a comic that Lance likes from like… the _turn of the century_ ,” Hunk said.

“2012 was _not_ the turn of the century,” Lance argued.

“Called [Young Avengers](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Young_Avengers),” Hunk continued, like Lance hadn’t just interrupted.

“Written by Kieron Gillen, illustrated by Jamie McKelvie,” Lance said. “A dynamic duo of comics if there ever was one.”

Hunk shot him a look.

“…fine, for _that era_. Stan Lee and Jack Kirby are the true heroes, as always, may their souls rest in peace despite the misogyny of many of their works,” Lance allowed. “Anyway, I got Hunk to read the comics a while back, and I was _expecting_ him to make the obvious choice when asked who the hottest Young Avenger was.”

“I still say it’s Teddy.”

“And I still say you’re _wrong._ Noh-Varr is straight up _pin-up boy_ material.”

“This is exactly the kind of bullshit that I’m glad I missed out on back at the Garrison,” Pidge said.

Keith poked his head into the room. “I heard yelling. Is there a fight happening?”

“Why don’t we get Pidge and Keith to weigh in?” Hunk suggested.

“Fine,” Lance sniffed. “I’m sure they’ll make the right choice. Let me just get the right pictures up.”

He fiddled with the tablet his siblings had sent along.

“Your brother and sister sent you digital comics from half a century ago?” Keith asked.

“I think Tío Ricardo just added everything he thought I might miss, and since this is my favorite series…” Lance shrugged. “Okay, so I’ve got a group shot and a couple of solos.”

“Which group shot?”

“[Kate’s getting a call from Freud.](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IqsQIrxIuwc/VFPcVKbD2QI/AAAAAAAAEDs/4PiMUd2xi4Y/s1600/youngavengers3.jpg)”

“…right, the harpoon! Okay, so the solos: anyone from V1?”

“Nah. [Cassie](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Cassandra_Lang_\(Earth-616\))’s too young for it to be comfortable during her time with the team, especially with how unnecessarily sexual some of the art of her gets in V1. Like, she’s fourteen? Stop ripping her clothes off and highlighting her boobs? Same goes for [Nate](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Nathaniel_Richards_\(Iron_Lad\)_\(Earth-6311\)) and [Jonas](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Jonas_\(Earth-616\)) on the age thing, and Eli is an age thing too, but also just… I love him, but Cheung’s art style. It doesn’t do anyone favors, but it’s especially harsh on [Eli](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Elijah_Bradley_\(Earth-616\)).”

“Why do you hate Cheung’s art style so much?”

“Have you _looked_ at V1 or Children’s Crusade?”

“The writing wasn’t bad!”

“The writing was mostly fine and absolutely what made me love Eli. But you have to admit that Cheung’s art style is really same-face syndrome and that it’s just plain _messy_ and… why. _Why_. McKelvie’s got a bunch of same-face too, but at least it’s _clean_ and I can tell who’s who in the close-ups and he isn’t sexualizing fourteen-year-olds.” Lance buried his face in his hands. Hunk patted him on the back.

“Moving on… Kid Loki shape or Agent Loki shape?”

“He’s kid shape in the group shot, but [just after the age-up in the solo](https://nothingbutcomics.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/young-avengers-loki-new-body.png).”

“[David](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/David_Alleyne_\(Earth-616\))?”

“Tried to find something out of uniform, but no dice except the party, and his big scene wasn’t even in McKelvie’s style, so… yeah, uniform.”

“[Tommy](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Thomas_Shepherd_\(Earth-616\))?”

“Do I have to?”

“Lance…”

“He’s such a fuckboy, though!”

“Still part of the team.”

“ _Barely_.”

“They traveled dozens, if not hundreds, of universes to save him.”

“…I mean, I did add his picture to the set. I just, you know, don’t want him to win.”

Hunk snorted. “Okay, then. I’m guessing you probably added [those shirtless Noh shots from the first issue](http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/138835288825/richgrayson-noh-varr-being-hella-fine).”

“Noh-Varr’s _hot_ , okay?” Lance brought the back of his hand up to his forehead. “Like, absolutely smoking hot. Like Uptown Funk ‘Hot damn’ hot. Like, ‘the things I would do to that man…’ hot.”

“Lance, are you okay?”

“No.”

Hunk bit his lip, suppressing a grin, and then seemed to realize something. “Wait, are we including villains?”

“I mean… I guess? Why? You’re not going for [Oubliette](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Oubliette_Midas_\(Earth-616\)), right?”

“What? No, of course, not. But dude… _[Leah](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Leah_\(Construct\)_\(Earth-616\))_.”

“This is true.” Lance nodded. “I mean, she’s terrifying, but at least that version of her isn’t entirely real even in-universe?”

“Or Loki would be dead.”

“ _So_ dead,” Lance said emphatically. “Also, if we’re talking hot YA villains, then…”

“Don’t.”

“[Sylvie Lushton](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Sylvie_Lushton_\(Earth-616\)).”

“How is your taste in comic book villains so bad?”

“I’m not saying she’s a good person! But, you know, she’s hot!” Lance protested.

“Also kind of evil and not exactly the brightest bulb in the box.”

“Still hot, Hunk.”

“Hi, I have a question,” Pidge interrupted. “Which of these guys is the smartest?”

Lance put a hand over Hunk’s face before he could answer. “We’re talking aesthetics only. No choosing based on intelligence. You can revamp your choice later if we change criteria, but right now we’re only going on aesthetic hotness.”

“Boo you, whore,” Pidge said, then stuck out her tongue at him. She looked down at the page again, and then pointed. “Okay, in that case… her.”

“America Chavez?” Lance eyed Pidge for a moment, and then nodded. “Acceptable.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she told him. “But yeah. She looks ready to kick ass and I guess the expression on her face is appealing? She looks like she’s not taking anyone’s shit, and also I like her hair.”

“This is a pretty good summary of her basic surface personality,” Lance acknowledged. “She’s deeper than that, but it takes some reading between the lines, or rereading after the reveal at the end, to realize, especially if you don’t read the point one issue.”

“I’m torn,” Keith announced. “Can I get names for these guys, at least?”

“Real or code?”

“…real?”

Lance pointed to each character in turn. “Noh-Varr, Kate Bishop, Loki, [Billy Kaplan](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/William_Kaplan_\(Earth-616\)), Tommy Shepherd, Teddy Altman, David Alleyne, America Chavez.”

“Tommy and Billy are identical twins, but Tommy’s hair and eyes changed color when his mutant powers manifested,” Hunk added.

“The Tommy guy is in a different style from the others,” Keith noted.

“They had guest artists for the issues he featured in most,” Lance explained. “Couldn’t really find a clear picture of him in McKelvie’s style.”

Keith nodded, looking down at the pictures. After a moment, he pointed at David and Tommy.

“ _No,”_ Lance gasped dramatically. “You _traitor.”_

“Oh boy,” Hunk muttered.

“Listen,” Keith said, obviously holding back a laugh. “I have my reasons.”

“How could you choose _Tommy_ over _Noh-Varr?”_

“Well, the Noh-Varr guy looks like he’s about to try to convince me to try his weed brownies or free range quinoa,” Keith said.

“That’s not a thing,” Hunk said. “That’s… that’s not even logically possible. Quinoa’s not an animal product. It can’t be free-range.”

“Exactly,” Keith said, as though that explained everything, which it kind of did. “Meanwhile, this Tommy guy looks like he’s about to ask me to help him hotwire a car for the hell of it.”

Lance’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and then he whirled around and draped himself over Hunk. He wailed, “Betrayed! By the one closest to me!”

“What does that make me, then?” Hunk asked. “If Keith is the closest?”

“You’re not just close to me, Hunk, you’re _part_ of me,” Lance said, as though it should have been obvious.

“Ah, right, of course.” Hunk nodded and patted Lance’s back.

“Anyway,” Lance said, and then went back to wailing. “Oh, the horror! The humanity! Keith has betrayed me!”

“I _really_ hope this is just Lance being dramatic about something relatively inconsequential again instead of something serious,” Shiro said from the door. “Please tell me this isn’t something I need to actually worry about.”

“Keith thinks that Lance’s favorite character isn’t as hot as Lance’s least favorite,” Pidge said.

“Tommy Shepherd is a _fuckboy_ , okay?” Lance whined.

“You mean like you?” Shiro asked, keeping his voice mild.

Dead silence reigned for a moment.

“…Should I not have said that?” Shiro asked, sounding a little more nervous. “I may have overstepped a line. Ah. I’m sor—”

“Ooooooooooooooooh!” Pidge yelled, Hunk joining in after a moment.

Lance let his eyes roll up and pretended to faint, right into Hunk’s loving arms.

“Lance Álvarez has been found dead in Miami,” Pidge announced, deadpan.

“Oh god, is he okay?” Hunk asked, not even looking down at Lance in his arms.

“Yeah, but he’s dead.”

“You guys _suck_ ,” Lance moaned, getting back up. He turned back to Keith. “Wait, what about David?”

“He looks like he could stare down a bomb without even twitching. Like he’s just that dead inside because he’s seen so much shit.” Keith tapped the picture. “Basically, he seems like the guy that’s sitting off to the side mostly quiet but offering sarcastic comments whenever someone does something stupid.”

“You’re not that far off,” Shiro said. “David’s experiences in _everything_ are fairly expansive, due to the mental osmosis that his original powerset consisted of.”

“Wait, Shiro, you’ve read YA?” Lance demanded.

“…yes? I preferred [Runaways](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Runaways_\(Earth-616\)), but—”

“ _Which Young Avenger is the hottest?”_ Lance demanded, scrambling away from Hunk and towards Shiro. He stopped just a foot or two away, visibly restraining himself from grabbing Shiro’s hands and pulling them up to his chin.

Shiro looked at him for a long moment, wide-eyed and surprised. “Um… I haven’t thought about it in a while?”

“Stick to V2 since all the V1-only characters are too young,” Lance suggested. “Aesthetic hotness only.”

Shiro looked down at the tablet that was still on the table and bit his lip. “I’m… going to have to go with Marvel Boy and Hawkeye?”

“Yes!” Lance yelled, pumping his fist in the air. “Fuck yeah! Noh-Varr’s the hottest!”

“Ah,” Shiro said. “Who did the rest of you choose?”

“Teddy,” Hunk said. “Pidge chose America. Keith decided that he was torn between Tommy and David.”

“Nobody chose Billy, then?” Shiro asked. “Or Loki?”

“Billy’s more _sweet_ than _hot_ , I think,” Lance said. “Even aesthetically. Same thing goes for Teddy, I’d say, but Hunk’s got his own weird tastes.”

“And Loki just doesn’t suit anyone’s tastes?”

“He spends two-thirds of the comic as a twelve-year-old, and the last third looking like he’s about to try to sell you snake oil as a hair tonic,” Lance mused. “So. That might be it. [Loki](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Loki_Laufeyson_\(Ikol\)_\(Earth-616\))’s more appealing in [AoA](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Loki:_Agent_of_Asgard_Vol_1), honestly. I feel like Lee Garbett’s style is better suited to that Loki than Jamie McKelvie’s.”

“Hm. I’d have expected Pidge to like David the most, but I guess if she doesn’t know anything about him, and just had to go by image, America makes sense.” Shiro swiped through the tablet. “That is… definitely a lot of shirtless Noh-Varr shots.”

“I’m not sure what you expected from me,” Lance said.

“What’s so special about David?” Pidge asked. “Why does Shiro think I should like David the most?”

Lance exchanged a look with Hunk and Shiro, then turned back to Pidge. “Do you want to download some of my comics so you and Keith can read some? My uncle downloaded pretty much my entire online comics library onto here.”

“I don’t know… I’m more of a DC kind of girl.”

“I’ve got some DC and Image on here, too.”

“The Image comics are more Gillen and McKelvie, unsurprisingly,” Hunk said.

“Phonogram and WicDiv are fucking _works of art,_ Hunk!”

“I never finished WicDiv…” Shiro mused. “I got spoilers, but…”

Lance pressed his tablet into Shiro’s chest, wide-eyed. “My poor man: I have them. Read.”

Allura and Coran walked in on five paladins near-silently reading comics half an hour later.

“Allura!” Lance yelled, scrambling to his feet and switching windows on his tablet to the earlier set of pictures. “Quick question: which of these characters would you say is the most physically attractive?”

Allura blinked at him, and then down at the tablet. “Why are there so many pictures of this one shirtless?”

“Because he’s my favorite,” Lance said, utterly unashamed.

“…I can see why, but that one hanging bang of white hair reminds me too much of Lotor,” Allura admitted. “Both of the girls are very attractive, though, and I like the hairstyle and the fabric that this one is wearing.”

She tapped the screen, right over Billy.

Lance squinted down at the photo, and then back up at Allura. “At least you didn’t betray me like Keith.”

“Are you serious?” Keith asked. “Are you going to bring that up forever?”

“You picked _Tommy,”_ Lance repeated. “You picked Tommy in an argument of attractiveness when _Noh-Varr_ was an option.”

“You do realize that half the reason he did that was to fuck with you, right?” Pidge said.

“Well, yeah, but pretending to be pissed off about something inconsequential is fun,” Lance said. “I don’t even dislike Tommy, but like… it’s fun to talk trash about one of the most popular characters. I shit talk with love, I promise.”

“Also, if we were going by personality as well…” Shiro trailed off. “Actually, assuming that a decent pattern of communication was in place and Noh-Varr wasn’t self-sabotaging with his own PTSD, he probably wouldn’t be that bad of a romantic partner. At least you’d always have music.”

“And a meat shield, apparently,” Pidge piped up. A glance told Lance that she was partway through the [Marvel Boy miniseries](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Marvel_Boy_Vol_2_1), which meant she’d probably run into something about his indestructability by this point.

“Wouldn’t have to worry about being widowed, since he’s nearly impossible to kill,” Hunk added.

“And he can eat all the leftovers, including the parts that aren’t actually food,” Keith said.

“Life wouldn’t be boring either, given the extensive number of people that would gladly try to kill him for the Phoenix debacle or what he did to Manhattan,” Shiro added.

“He served his time for both of those incidents, did his reparation work, and got tortured a lot as punishment! I really don’t think you can hold all of that against him, given his circumstances!” Lance protested.

“I mean… the Phoenix was a result of misinformation, true, but Manhattan?” Shiro wiggled a hand in the air. “I’m only giving it a pass because I’d say all the torture, mind control, and so on, both before and after, is punishment enough for just about anything.”

“I’m not,” Hunk said. “But he actually tried to do charity work in his own weird superhero way afterwards, so… that’s not bad?”

“This isn’t a real person, correct?” Allura asked. “Just a fictional character?”

“Yes,” the paladins answered in unison.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be trying to explain away the Fuck You Fires if he were a real person,” Lance said. “However, he is in fact fictional, and his circumstances were weird as shit—”

“Being part of a hive mind and feeling your entire family die and then watching them get dissected while you’re tortured by your captors will do some interesting things to a fifteen-year-old’s mind,” Shiro acknowledged.

“And then the Cube,” Lance added. “We do not forget the fuckery that happened at the Cube.”

“Comics are convoluted,” Keith said, staring down at the tablet in his own lap. “Very convoluted. Why are they so convoluted?”

“Because you have about twenty different writers at any given time writing the same characters in new situations, frequently causing crossovers between individual groups of characters, switching out at least three or four writers per year for someone new, passing on the characters to new writers who must then find something original to do with them, resulting in increasingly ridiculous plots as the writers struggle to find something new and interesting to do so that the audience doesn’t lose interest,” Lance rattled off.

“Often commenting on contemporary events,” Shiro added, “and matters of social justice.”

“Never forget that Captain America was the creation of two Jewish men in response to widespread support of Hitler in the early days of World War II,” Lance added.

The Alteans stared at him and Shiro in blank confusion.

“Hey, Allura, want to see something funny?” Hunk asked.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Keith said. “But also I kind of want to see what you’re planning.”

“Same,” Pidge said.

Allura looked at Hunk for a long moment. “I have no idea what’s going on, but alright.”

Hunk grinned and turned to Lance. “Hey Lance, is Magneto the Maximoff twins’ dad or not?”

(It took fifteen minutes for the team to get Lance to stop ranting.)

o.o.o.o.o

“Okay, Shiro was right. David’s my favorite now.[ Programming a miniature Cerebro in five minutes?](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Original_Sins_Vol_1)” Pidge pretended to fan herself. “If I wasn’t ace… I mean, I still want to marry his brain anyway. Platonically. Just… damn. I have a favorite Marvel character now. I’m supposed to be a DC girl, but this has me hooked. Damn you, Lance. Damn you.”

“…just read the comic, short shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a couple of characters I couldn't find decent V2 reference pics for; Tommy in particular doesn't show up in McKelvie's style much, since his two biggest appearances in V2 are both in issues that have guest artists.
> 
> I feel like Lance would have really strong opinions about bigoted retcons and the importance of remembering the minority influence on comics as a medium.
> 
> NGL: I've been thinking of doing a short YA/VLD crossover featuring Noh accidentally ending up in the Voltron universe, because life is nothing if not ironic, and it would NOT be the first time he accidentally landed in the wrong dimension, got captured and experimented on, and then broke out and got revenge.  
> (Alternate summary: Haggar makes a bad decision, the paladins save a prisoner who looks human but really, _really_ isn't, and Noh-Varr just wants to go home... but has to bash some skulls first so he can get his spaceship/house back.)


	20. Rosebay Rhododendron and Citron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, back to your regularly scheduled shenani-- wait, no, that's plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about last time: I have a soft spot for dumb teenagers with PTSD that keep trying to save the world (gee, wonder how many of my fandoms THAT applies to).
> 
> Anyway! Here's a new character! Also I finally get to let Hunk have the limelight again! Have fun.
> 
> Warnings for: anxiety (though with a delayed panic response, so the actual panic attack isn't until a later chapter), alcohol consumption (a weak wine)

“I’m not the only one getting a bad feeling about this, right?” Lance asked, voice just barely loud enough to reach the comms.

“Chewie…” Pidge whispered, then laughed to herself.

“Haha, very funny. Seriously though, anyone else?” Lance shifted minutely. His legs were starting to hurt form his position, but moving more than inch in any given direction was just asking for attention. He kept his bayard trained on Lotor’s hotel window.

“Yeah, I’ve got a pretty bad feeling, too.” Hunk said.

The comms were silent for a moment, before Keith summarily whispered, “Shit.”

“I mean, I’m not 100% accurate, guys. Could just be indigestion or something,” Hunk said, though he sounded a lot like he didn’t believe his own words.

“Your track record is almost perfect, dude,” Pidge said. “So right now, we’ll assume there’s going to be a wrench in the plan. Shiro?”

“Hold position,” he ordered. “Until we know _what_ that wrench is, we’re following the plan.”

“This really seems like the sort of thing we should have trusted to the Blade,” Pidge said. “Seeing as they can actually get in undercover.”

“So can Keith, which is why he’s in there.” Hunk said. “Or Lance, in a pinch.”

“Holding a glamour for that long takes concentration, though, especially if I have to improvise in conversation,” Lance said. “I’d start losing the image after half an hour, max.”

“Keep the chatter down, please,” Shiro said. “Keith, update?”

“Give me five minutes and I can _maybe_ hit up the computer at the front desk,” Keith said, his voice low. “Can’t read anything, though. Pidge, you’re sure this chip thing will give you remote access?”

“Just set it down on the terminal and it should work. Ryner promised it would, and everything I’ve checked indicates that it will.”

“Need a distraction?” Hunk asked.

“Small one that’ll get the hotel staff outside but not alert Lotor would be nice,” Keith muttered.

Lance licked his lips nervously and scanned the hotel building. Lotor’s window remained stubbornly empty of people, so he dropped his gaze to the entryway. “I’ve got a few houseplants in the front of the building. Think they’re real?”

“Yeah,” Keith said.

“If I adjust my blaster, I can probably set one of them on fire,” Lance said.

“Without drawing attention to yourself on the roof?” Shiro asked.

“Less sure about that,” Lance admitted.

“Let’s hold off on it, then.” Shiro paused for a moment. “Hunk?”

“I’ve been doing my best but the translation chips don’t get everything when there’s a crowd,” Hunk said. “Nobody seems to have noticed me, though, and I’ve gotten at least _some_ of the local gossip on Lotor.”

“Still have an eye on the entrance?” Shiro asked.

“Most of the time. Passersby kinda getting in the way sometimes, but I’m still at the edge of the café’s patio, so there aren’t any waiters or other patrons in the way, at least.” There was a momentary pause as a crunching noise filled the comms. “They’re going to kick me out if I don’t buy something regularly, though, and I’m running out of GAC here.”

“Just keep an eye and an ear out,” Shiro said. “Lance?”

“No movement. Still in position. My legs kind of hurt, but I can’t move, because then they’d see me.”

“Seriously no movement?” Pidge asked. “Can I bring up your helmet’s camera feed on Green’s screens so Shiro and I can take a look?”

“Go right ahead,” Lance said. “The curtains just fluttered a bit, if that helps.”

“Not really. Infrared?”

“The building’s shielded,” Lance said.  “Gave it a shot earlier.”

“Why are stakeouts so long?” Pidge asked. “My ass is going numb just sitting here.”

“At least you’re in a lion,” Lance muttered. “I’m half-kneeling on a concrete rooftop and not allowed to _move_.”

“Thank you for holding position as long as you have,” Shiro said. “Coran, Allura? How are things at the castle?”

“We’re keeping track of ingoing and outgoing vehicles, but it’s a little difficult with all the interference,” Allura said.

“Interference?” Lance asked.

“We’re hiding in a gas giant,” Coran said. “Too dense at the center to actually ‘see’ through, and plenty of interference on other sides as well from the ongoing storms.”

“We’ve got enough clarity to be sure that there aren’t any changes in the number of military vessels, however,” Allura said. “No new forces, and Lotor hasn’t left on an Empire ship, at least.”

“I’m gonna pick a fight with the concierge,” Keith said. “It should get me close enough and if they have their eyes on my face, they won’t notice me dropping the chip on top of the hardware.”

“Pick a fight about what?”

“…sending me to the wrong room with service?” Keith said. “Wait, no, the uniform I stole was housekeeping. Uh… sending me to clean out an occupied room when they’d said whoever it was had already checked out?”

“You know, for someone who gets into so many fights, you’re shit at coming up for a reason for them,” Lance said.

“Most the wordy fights were with you, Lance, and you always come up with the topic there,” Keith pointed out. “So should I just haul off and punch him in the face or…?”

“No,” Shiro said. “Do not.”

“You could flirt,” Lance suggested. “That’s what I’d do.”

“…and that would work for you, but I am not, in fact, you.” Keith’s voice was dry.

There was a sharp inhale over the line that was clearly from Hunk.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro immediately asked.

Hunk didn’t answer for a moment, and then said, with the kind of forced calmness that came from being a situation so stressful that it didn’t feel real anymore, “Prince Lotor. What a surprise.”

Lance’s blood ran cold.

“I definitely didn’t expect to see you here today.”

o.o.o.o.o

Hunk wasn’t exactly in the safest position to begin with, but the entire team had known, from the beginning, that Keith was the one in the most danger. Even if they were just doing information retrieval, with no plans for a fight, Keith was the one going deepest into enemy territory. Lance was in danger too, up on the roof, because if he moved too much, someone was going to spot him, and his bayard, and realize that there was a sniper on the roof of the building two blocks over from the hotel Lotor was staying at.

(It was, in fact, the tallest building in the city, only a few floors higher than the hotel that Lotor had grabbed a penthouse suite at. Had it been any closer to the hotel, Hunk was sure there would have been arguments over the air rights of the nearby buildings, for the sake of the view from the hotel. Maybe there already were. In any case, this city’s propensity towards skyscraper office buildings was enough to make sure Lance at least had a position.)

Hunk was supposed to be in the middling level of danger. He wasn’t as safe as Shiro and Pidge, protected by the Green Lion, but he wasn’t in a dangerous spot like Keith and Lance. Hunk was just another tourist, drinking something fruity and eating alien scones. He was just some guy, people-watching, with sunglasses and day clothes on.

Which was why it was a surprise to notice someone take a seat across for him, and then turn to see _Prince Fucking Lotor_ sitting there with a small smile on his face.

Hunk inhaled sharply.

“Hello, paladin.”

“Prince Lotor,” Hunk said, feeling his own heart beat a mile a minute. Some kind of numbness was spreading from behind his sternum, though, an artificial calm that came out during the most absolutely stressful moments. When fight and flight weren’t options, when anxiety pushed past everything to the point where it circled around to tranquility again, when everything went ‘too much’ to the point where it _stopped existing_ until absolutely necessary, this was the kind of calm that Hunk reached.

Like being in a snow globe, almost, where he was aware of everything piling on, but it never actually touched him.

“What a surprise,” he continued. “I definitely didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“How curious,” Lotor said, “Considering you are, in fact, sitting in front of my hotel.”

“We all need days off,” Hunk said, ignoring the sudden rush of voices in the comms.

“Of course,” Lotor said, smiling charmingly. It was… strange. “And I suppose it just happens to coincide with my own, in the same system, same planet, same city and even street?”

“I’d be wearing my armor if I was looking for a fight,” Hunk pointed out. “Also, I should mention that the staff are probably going to try to kick you out if you don’t order something.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Lotor scoffed.

“Wow. Does that attitude ever actually get you dates, or do they just ignore it because of the money?” Hunk asked.

“I could kill you right now, paladin.”

“Yeah? So could another human. So could a lucky drone. So could a dedicated Arusian. You’re not special, Lotor.” Hunk plucked the menu away from the center of the table and looked through it. “Besides, if you were planning to kill me, you already would have.”

“Can you even read that?” Lotor asked, leaning to the side and propping up his cheek on one fist. “Or do you just point and hope?”

Hunk looked up and quirked an eyebrow, like he sometimes did when Lance was being particularly obnoxious. “How many languages can you read? How long have you had to learn them?”

“Seven, and a little over two centuries,” Lotor said. “And you?”

“Three, and eighteen years.” Hunk pretended not to notice the look of shock that flickered over Lotor’s face.

“You are very young by your species’ standards, then?”

“Legally an adult in the US as of a little over two months ago. Nine weeks, really, but who's counting?” Hunk said, not looking up from the menu. “Life expectancy there is about… eighty-five, maybe ninety years, on average. But a year on Earth might not be the same thing as a Galra year.”

“Might?”

Hunk looked up and smiled. “Most of my comparisons have been to Altean years, not Galra ones, given where I’ve been living for the past seven months.”

“Weeks and months… it doesn’t quite translate.”

“Neither do ticks or varga or whatever other measurement you’re using to measure time,” Hunk told him.

“Um.”

Hunk looked up at the incredibly nervous waitress and smiled pleasantly. “It seems I have an unexpected guest for lunch here.”

“A guest, am I? Should I feel flattered to be called such after having tried to kill you so many times?” Lotor tilted his head, smirking.

“If you want,” Hunk said, shrugging and looking down at his menu.

“S-so can I get you gentleman anything to drink?” The waitress chirped out, visibly shaking and trying to carry on with her job as she was supposed to. After a short pause, she squeaked. “Y-your Majesty?”

“Better,” Lotor said softly.

“You know, I tend to find that dinner is better when the staff _isn’t_ scared out of their minds,” Hunk noted, not looking up from the menu.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lotor laughed.

“Hunk,” Pidge’s voice whispered into his ear. “Lance is trying to find a good place to take a shot without putting you or the other patrons in danger. Right now you need to keep Lotor occupied. I’ve got a translation up here, and I’m going to tell you where to point to order an alcoholic drink. Cross-referencing with outside sources show that it’s only about 3%, so you should be fine, but it’ll freak him out since only Kerrissians are supposed to be able to drink it even a little safely.”

“Um,” the waitress said, shifting closer, and consequently away from Lotor. “Are you read to order your drink? Or should I come back later?”

“This one,” Hunk said, a small indicator showing up on his sunglasses to point out the right thing to order.

“…are you sure? It’s not very safe for—”

“I’m sure,” Hunk said firmly, putting the menu down and closing it with a smile. “I’ve had their drinks before.”

“Oh! Oh, um, okay.” The waitress looked between Hunk and Lotor for a moment, and then bobbed into a curtsey aimed at Lotor. “I’ll be right back with those.”

She rushed off, and it took a few moments for Lotor to turn bored eyes back towards Hunk. “So.”

“…so,” Hunk said, suddenly feeling like he was on the galaxy’s most awkward date.

(This was really more Lance’s territory than Hunk’s.)

(“Lance, don’t you _dare_ shift right now,” Shiro ordered, something Hunk only half-heard. “The situation’s currently somewhat stable; if you shift, you’ll give away valuable information and possibly destabilize things.”)

(“There’s too many trees in the way for me to get a clean shot,” Lance grumbled.)

(“Figure it out, Lance,” Shiro said, sounding strained. “But do it in a way that doesn’t draw attention or put Hunk in a more dangerous situation than he’s already in.”)

(“I’m relegated to running down the _fire escape,_ Shiro! Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to get down _two hundred flights of stairs?”_ )

“I don’t suppose I could just say ‘tell me about yourself’ and actually receive an answer?” Lotor mused.

“You’re really heading this up like it’s a date, then,” Hunk said, tapping his fingers against the table. “Is that intentional?”

“A date? Is that some kind of slang?”

“Like… courting?” Hunk tried to explain. “Several hours of close contact with someone you’re trying to be romantic with, in hopes of getting to know each other better. That’s the vibe I’m getting from you.”

“Really.”

“The only times I hear the phrase ‘so tell me about yourself’ are dates and job interviews,” Hunk said. “And seeing as we’re in a café and I’m one of your mortal enemies… date is just a little bit more likely than job interview.”

“And I don’t suppose I’m good at the role?”

“Well, you were already rude to the waitress. Gotta say that’s strike one,” Hunk said. “Strike two, actually. Strike one was threatening to kill me.”

“Ah yes, I suppose that _does_ put a damper on things,” Lotor mused. “And… strike?”

(“You know, I was expecting Lance to be the one to flirt with the enemy,” Pidge said. “And yet—”)

(“ _Focus_ ,” Shiro said. “Keith’s almost dropped the chip off. Get ready to do your job.”)

(“…yes, sir.”)

“Besides, I’m not that kind of paladin,” Hunk said, just to fuck with Pidge a bit.

“Is that to say that there _is_ a paladin who would take the opportunity to enjoy this… date?”

(“Don’t,” Lance said, voice strained. “ _Please_.”)

(“…you would, though,” Pidge muttered.)

“It’s not a date,” Hunk said flatly. “You’re the evil overlord type, and while I can’t speak for anyone else, I know that I, personally, kind of find that a turn-off.”

“Pity. You’re an engaging conversationalist,” Lotor said.

Hunk didn’t answer, turning towards the waitress that was picking her way over with a tray that had two drinks on top of it.

“Your drinks!” She said, just a little too chipper in her nervousness. “Warisi heffleberry juice and Kerrissian blue sapfruit wine. And some water, of course.”

“For food, I’ll take…” Lotor started ordering, with a few changes that Hunk thought sounded like a bad idea all around.

(“Hunk, I’m going to point something out again. It’s got a capsaicin warning on it. You should be able to handle it, I think.”)

“Thank you,” Hunk said as he took his drink, giving her a smile. He pointed at the entry. “I’ll have this.”

“But—”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

She gave him a worried look, but nodded and scurried off.

“…Kerrissian wine?” Lotor asked, voice quiet. “I didn’t take you for the type to attempt suicide by poison.”

“Who said anything about poison?” Hunk said, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip. “Kerrissian drinks are pretty weak by human standards.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

(“Chug it,” Keith suggested.)

(“ _Do not chug it,_ ” Shiro ordered.)

(“Prove him wrong,” Keith urged. “Chug the damn wine.”)

(“How about we _don’t_ tell Hunk to get drunk while sitting three feet away from _Prince Lotor?”_ Lance said.)

(“It’s like three percent, Lance,” Keith said. “He’s not gonna get drunk off of a three percent ABV.”)

(“Lance, I have an idea and I need you to trust me,” Pidge suddenly said. “It might buy Hunk a chance to get away.”)

(“Tell me what I need to do.”)

(“Well, first you’re going to need to strip.”)

(“Liking this plan already.”)

(“Oh my _god_ , Lance. It’s because the quintessence in your armor messes with your magic and vice versa.”)

(“Too late! You asked me to strip!”)

“Suit yourself,” Hunk said, taking another sip. It was… very sweet, and hid the taste of the alcohol. “I’m certainly not going to keel over from something this weak.”

 “I see. So…” Lotor took a sip of his own juice. “Tell me about your planet. Earth, was it? How’s the little ball of mud? I _do_ hope your families have been alright, given your… extended absence.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hunk said with a brittle smile. “We haven’t exactly had the opportunity to call home since we came up.”

That was a filthy lie if there ever was one, but hey! Evil overlord junior, sitting right there.

“How… unfortunate. Anything might have happened…” And then Lotor smiled, like he knew something Hunk didn’t.

“You wouldn’t have wasted resources on a planet that poses minimal interest to you,” Hunk said.

“Why can’t I take interest in the planet that the paladins hail from? I’d say it might provide some insight, wouldn’t it?”

“Shiro’s experiences as Champion indicate that we’re more physically capable than a lot of species,” Hunk said. “And not exactly as willing to bend to outside control as you’re hoping. Plus, we’ve done a lot of damage to our own planet, so you don’t exactly have a lot of resources coming out. We’re apparently pretty low on quintessence, so there’s no use in harvesting that, either. We’re not exactly an appealing target.”

“Hardy, though. Strong enough. I imagine humans would do well in the mines,” Lotor said softly.

“Humans have spent enough time enslaving each other for that to be a bad idea on your part, and there are still stories about escape strategies. Of course, there were wars for that, too. You’d have a rebellion on your hands within the year.” Hunk shrugged. “You have more important things to do, I’m guessing. I’ve seen what your empire does to Balmera.”

“I take it you disapprove.”

“Oh, obviously,” Hunk said immediately. “But even if I didn’t disapprove from a moral standpoint, I’d have to point out that you’re going to run out of Balmera eventually. Energy crisis and all that, and I don’t think you’re going to find anything else as readily available for use.”

(“Are you seriously giving Lotor advice on his own weaknesses?” Pidge asked.)

(“Enough,” Shiro said. “Trust Hunk.”)

“I’m sure Mother has it covered,” Lotor said dismissively. “Considering how many of the Empire’s problems she’s solved, I’d say she’s probably seen this one for a long time and already started on a solution.”

“Oh, really? And where _is_ Haggar? What’s she up to?”

“Things.”

“Wow. That’s so detailed,” Hunk drawled.

(“Pidge, are you sure this is going to work?”)

(“Yes, Lance. It’ll take a few minutes even with me speeding things up, but it _will_ work.”)

(“Are you sure?”)

_(“Yes.”)_

“My mother’s activities are not something I keep particularly careful track of. She’s more devoted to the Empire than I am, I imagine. She will do what needs to be done, and if she feels that I need to know of her actions, then she will tell me. As it stands, I trust her to do as she needs to do, and she trusts me to do what my position entails. We’ve no need to track each other’s whereabouts,” Lotor said.

“Lots of trust, is what I’m hearing.”

“Indeed.”

A few muted clicks heralded the arrival of the waitress, a platter in one hand, holding their meals.

“Jysanian roasted Brynic Beast, and Tsanvir grilled Narr salad,” she said, passing the salad to Lotor and the roast to Hunk. She gave a short bow and said, “Tell me if you need anything!”

After a moment where Lotor only stared at her in growing amusement at her fidgeting, Hunk sighed. “It looks great. We’ll wave you over later for the bill.”

“…right!” She said brightly, and then turned and speed-walked for the café proper.

Lotor snorted and shook his head. “So, humans eat meat, then?”

“We’re granivores, technically, but we’re reasonably omnivorous,” Hunk said. “So yes, meat and plants are both on the menu.”

“Fascinating,” Lotor drawled, with the air of someone who wasn’t all that interested.

“And what about you? Carnivore like Zarkon or herbivore like your dear old mom?”

“A mixed diet, I’m afraid,” Lotor smiled. “Rather like yourself.”

Hunk shrugged and dug into the meat. “It’s not impossible to live on a vegetarian lifestyle, or even a vegan one, but staying healthy on it is harder than with a few meaty meals per week.”

“Something you would know?”

Hunk gave him a flat look. “I can deadlift over six hundred pounds. Yeah. I would know.”

(“Is Lotor fat-shaming my bestie? I’m gonna kick his ass.”)

(“Lance. Focus. Are you in position yet?”)

(“Give me… two minutes.”)

“I don’t suppose your meal is any good?” Lotor said. “Mine is a little… bland.”

“Mine isn’t,” Hunk said. “What, do you want to try it?”

(“Hunk, capsaicin is poison to both Alteans and Galra. You’re going to make him cry.”)

(“Please do,” Lance grunted.)

Lotor smiled and reached over with a fork. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Hunk waited until the morsel made its way into Lotor’s mouth, and flicked up the menu in time to keep it from landing back in his plate when Lotor spat it out, looking panicked.

“You might want to drink something to wash down the taste,” Hunk suggested, keeping his voice mild. He pointed at the water, helpful to the last. “Not everyone can handle spicy food.”

“Are you trying to poison me?” Lotor demanded, and the guards he’d brought along raised their weapons to point them at Hunk.

(“Fuck,” Pidge swore.)

(“Never mind, I’m in position,” Keith said.)

(“Same,” Lance grunted. “Awkwardly small space, but same.”)

“You poisoned yourself,” Hunk said. “This is normal to me. Besides, given how fast you spat it out, I really doubt there’s going to be any long-lasting effects.”

“What was that?” Lotor demanded.

“Capsaicin,” Hunk said. “And not even a lot. That was like… a three on a scale of ten.”

Lotor’s gaze dropped to Hunk’s meal. “Jysanian. I should have guessed, after the Kerrissian wine.”

“Your eyes are watering, just so you know,” Hunk said, pointedly taking another large bite of the roast. “Seriously, drink some water. Or something oily.”

(“Pidge, how long until we start seeing results?” Lance asked, his voice oddly low and sharp.)

(“I don’t know. Four minutes? Maybe more? Keith, please tell me you grabbed your armor back.”)

(“I’m back in uniform,” Keith confirmed. “And yes, I’ve sealed it to zero atmo.”)

Lotor put down his water, now empty. His gaze would have been sharp, if not for the tears pricking his eyes.

“You okay there?” Hunk asked.

“Just fine,” Lotor said, which would have been much more convincing if his voice wasn’t oddly raw and gravelly.

“…you sure?” Hunk asked.

“Absolutely.”

(“Ask him if he wants another bite,” Pidge suggested.)

(“Do _not_ do that,” Shiro said.)

(“C’mon, Lance and Keith are almost at the point of actually putting the plan in action,” Pidge said. “Hunk can afford to antagonize him a _little_.”)

(“Pidge, no.”)

Hunk smiled. “Want another bite?”

“I think I’ll refrain from doing so,” Lotor said, staring at the roast distastefully. “How does your mouth not feel as though it’s engulfed in flames?”

“This is pretty tame as far as spicy food goes,” Hunk said. “This level is like… what I had as a kid? And my tolerance for spicy food is right about average.”

“You’re telling me there are humans who would choose to eat something even more toxic than Jysanian food?” Lotor asked, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, there are chiliheads everywhere you go. They eat things that would make _me_ cry.”

“Why?”

“They find it tasty,” Hunk said. _Or are doing it on a dare, or want to prove a point, or lost a bet_.

“How… quaint,” Lotor’s lip curled in disdain.

“Isn’t that a word that people use when they want to pretend they’re better than everyone around them?” Hunk asked. “It’s like instead of using ‘quaint’ to mean old-fashioned and cute, you’re trying to call us undeveloped and unseemly.”

“Well…”

“And the only thing involved is whether or not we’re more immune to a common toxin than you are,” Hunk said. “That’s pretty rude.”

“It’s—”

The hotel’s alarms started blaring.

(“Fucking _finally,_ ” Pidge said.)

(Shiro didn’t even bother to correct her language.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does a cafe do lunch and dinner? IDK, aliens.  
> "Lotor and Hunk go on a date to a cafe" sounds like the start to a weird romcom fic but no it's just anxiety time.
> 
> Lotor's fun to write. Poor Hunk. Poor _waitress_.
> 
> Hunk's totally had a service job before, and let's face it: Lotor is _nothing_ compared to Helen, fifteen minutes before dear little Jimmy's soccer game, demanding the manager because she's been told it'll take _twenty_ minutes for her order to be ready, and she's responsible for half-time snacks this week. If she's late, then all the other moms are going to make fun of her, and she'll _never_ get back at Patricia for that comment about her sweatpants last week!
> 
> ...at least, that's what I want to think. "Soccer moms with the entitlement of white suburbia, screaming at minimum wage teenagers, are more intimidating than Lotor with armed guards" is a fun concept.
> 
> I looked up deadlifting records for high school competitions and the heaviest categories clocked in at seven or eight hundred pounds, so I put Hunk at over six hundred.


	21. Sainfoin and Frog Ophrys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone manages to get out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: emetophobia (Hunk throws up), panic attacks, and Lotor being a fuckboy.

Lance’s head was feeling fuzzy. He was… he was going to need to eat after this. Feed. All three tiers, hopefully, but at least food and blood.

“How are you holding up?” Keith’s voice came into his ear.

“It’s really cramped and my wings are sore from the weird position I’m holding,” Lance said. “Also, I might be having some trouble breathing.”

“What?” Shiro asked, worry evident in his voice. “Why?”

“Smoke. I can deal with some, more than a human, but this quantity is just… a lot. Don’t worry, I don’t get damage from smoke inhalation.”

Lance looked down at the ground and the black smoke that had been rolling out from his hands and legs for the past five minutes. His legs had already been hurting from the sniper nest earlier, but the crouching position he’d been forced to adopt to get into the central ventilation of the hotel was only making things worse.

“Any other concerns?” Shiro asked.

“I’m going to be really thirsty when I get back to the Castle,” Lance admitted. “Five minutes of producing smoke at my highest rate is just… not doing me any favors. I’m getting kind of lightheaded.”

“Which tier?” Keith asked.

“All three, if possible,” Lance huffed out. “Pidge, please tell me I can stop soon.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize that smoke would be this much of a drain.”

“I usually don’t do it continually like this, and when I make a _lot_ , there’s usually a fire to help with production.” Lance rolled his head around a little, trying to dissipate the strain in his neck. “Hey… Allura? When I ge—”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to—”

“Tier three feeding, yes,” Allura cut him off. “Running information from the castle means that I will be much less tired than Keith when you return. Tier two would best be done with Altean blood as well, given how much you say you’ve drained your reserves.”

“…thanks, ‘Llura,” Lance muttered. “How’s Hunk doing?”

“Uh… oh, hey, that’s cool.” The pitch of Pidge’s voice changed a little, like she’d just changed how many people her voice projected to. “Ask him if he wants another bite.”

“Do _not_ do that,” Shiro said.

“C’mon, Lance and Keith are almost at the point of actually putting the plan in action,” Pidge said. “Hunk can afford to antagonize him a _little_.”

“Pidge, no.”

“What do you mean, _almost?”_ Lance demanded. “I’ve been pumping out smoke for five minutes here!”

“I’ve been hiding in a hallway ceiling vent for seven,” Keith added.

( _Apparently_ , the vents going to the actual rooms were too small for humans, or Galra, to get into. There were also motion-sensitive lasers in them for high-security suites like the penthouse that Lotor was buying out for the week, because of _course_ there were.)

“Right, and you can’t put it into proper action until the alarm goes off.”

“An alarm that you can’t hack?”

“Separate system, no wireless connectivity,” Pidge grumbled. “It does connect to the system _if_ the alarms go off and they want to unlock everything to ensure that as many people can evacuate as possible, but it’s completely separate until then.”

“And we don’t know where to find the sensors to just trick one and set off the rest?”

“Doesn’t work like that. They won’t evacuate the whole building unless sensors go off in enough different areas at the same time. The only other option that would work is actually setting a fire…”

“And we don’t want to put the other hotel guests at risk,” Shiro sighed. “Can you two hold out for long enough to do what you need to do?”

“Yeah, if the guards evacuate with the rest,” Keith said. “If not, we’ll have to go with something a little less subtle.”

“Give me a bit of time to get up there and a kiss or two and I can probably Jedi Mind Trick them,” Lance said.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Shiro said. “You’re already in bad shape.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not thaa _aaaaaaat_ bad,” Lance said, almost losing the sentence as a wave of vertigo hit him.

“Lance, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Lance?”

“…might be woozier than I tho—”

The alarms went off.

“Fucking _finally,_ ” Pidge swore. “Lance, can you give it another minute just in case or would you rather get up to where Keith is?”

“I don’t think I can keep this up much longer, sorry,” Lance said. He slid out of the large horizontal shaft he’d holed up in and stopped producing smoke. “Just head straight up?”

“If you can,” Pidge said.

“Of course I—” Lance tried to take a step forward and stumbled, needing to throw out a hand to steady himself on the wall, hitting wrong and bending his wrist too far back. “Ow. Can’t, apparently.”

“Do you need help getting out?” Shiro asked.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m… gonna be useless for a bit, though. I don’t think I could shift to smoke right now to make my way up faster.” Shiiit. “Keith, are you going to be okay?”

“The guards left and… listen, they didn’t even leave behind any _drones_ ,” Keith laughed. There was a scraping noise as he presumably slid out of the hallway ceiling vent.

“Oh, they’ll be losing their heads later for that,” Shiro muttered.

“Yeah, probably,” Keith said, huffing out a breath that signaled his hitting the floor.

“I meant that literally.”

“… _Oh,_ ” Keith said. “That’s… less funny.”

“I’m going to head out towards Hunk, then.” Lance pushed his way out to the hallway and layered an incredibly weak invisibility glamour over himself. He had to lean against the wall to make his way over towards the elevators.

“Elevators won’t work, Lance,” Pidge told him.

“Can’t you hijack one?”

“…gimme thirty seconds and I’ll have an answer for you,” she said.

“How’s Hunk doing?” Lance asked as he stumbled his way down towards the elevators. If Pidge couldn’t open the doors, then it wasn’t going to be a _huge_ climb, but…

“The evacuation is causing a crowd, but not enough for him to get away yet,” Pidge said. “Okay, I got you an elevator. Give it twenty seconds to get there.”

“Is he in any danger?”

“He _sounds_ calm, but…” Pidge paused, huffing. “Well. He’s been weirdly calm this whole time. I’m pretty sure he could have a gun pointed at his head and act like nothing was wrong at all right now.”

“Here’s hoping you’re wrong,” Lance managed as he lurched into the elevator and punched the button for the lobby.

o.o.o.o.o

There were currently several guns pointed at Hunk’s head.

Part of him was screaming in terror, because he didn’t have his armor, or his lion, or his bayard, or anything, really. That part of him felt like throwing up, and was also largely unhelpful in the moment, because throwing up or otherwise panicking wasn’t going to do him any good.

The part of him that had gotten so stressed that it had forced him into a transcendental sort of calm was the part in control, thankfully. It was keeping him in a position where he could slice off bits of the roast and keep eating like the several drones and guards aiming at his head weren’t actually there.

“You know, that salad’s probably better fresh,” Hunk said, pointing at Lotor’s plate with his fork.

“I must say that I’m more concerned with the stampede of life-forms than I am with my meal,” Lotor said, practically dripping disdain.

“If you say so,” Hunk said, shrugging. “I’m going to finish my meal, if you don’t mind.”

“Sir,” one of the Galra said. “The building appears to be on fire.”

“I noticed.” Lotor didn’t look away from Hunk. “I’m sure I can take a guess at the cause. Am I right, paladin?”

“I have a name, you know.”

“One that I have not been made aware of.”

Hunk shrugged. He took another bite of the roast. “This is really well-made.”

Lotor’s jaw clenched visibly. “Is that so.”

“Yeah, you’d know that if you had a more developed palate.” Hunk gave him a smile. “Well, I guess there are other trade-offs, right?”

“Indeed.”

(“I’m going to head out towards Hunk, then.”)

Hunk looked down at the roast, of which there was only one bite left. With a shrug, he popped it into his mouth and raised a hand to call over the waitress.

Her eyes were wide and terrified, switching between Hunk and Lotor and the hotel with grey smoke wafting from over half its open windows. “Um. Can… can I help you, sirs?”

“We’ll take the check,” Hunk said lightly, giving her a smile. “I’m sure that Lotor here can cover the bill without any problem. And with a nice, large tip for to help cover for the trouble. Right?”

And Hunk must have had a death wish, even in his own opinion, because he gave Lotor a challenging look, like he wasn’t _entirely_ sure Lotor had the cash on hand to pay for everything.

“I’m more than capable of paying for… this,” Lotor said, gesturing at the table with a curl to his lip.

“Then you don’t mind! That’s great. Miss, we’ll definitely take that check. The food was wonderful; give my compliments to the chef.”

“O-of course,” she stuttered out, and then fled.

“She seems like a nice girl,” Hunk said, picking up his drink and taking a sip.

“She does,” Lotor said, his voice soft and just a little dangerous.

“She also doesn’t deserve any ‘bad luck’ to come her way just because we chose to eat here, right?” Hunk smiled at Lotor.

He had to just. Keep. Smiling.

Just stay pleasant and composed and wait for a way out.

(“I just got my armor back, and I’m about to do something really stupid,” Lance said.)

(“Same,” Keith added.)

(“Please tell us _which_ stupid thing you’re about to do, at least.” Shiro’s voice was very strained, like he knew he couldn’t stop them, so he was just going to do his best to mitigate the damage.)

(“Well, I’m almost done planting mics and trackers on all of Lotor’s shit,” Keith said. “Listen, it would take too long to get out the normal way, so I’m going to jump off the roof.”)

(“ _No,_ ” Pidge and Shiro said simultaneously.)

(“You can catch me with Green!”)

(“Just slide down the elevator cable!” Pidge yelled.)

(“…that’s an option?”)

(“ _Yes,_ ” Pidge and Shiro yelled simultaneously.)

(“Oh, okay. I’ll do that. Lance, what was you’re stupid thing?”)

(“…maybe just get ready to catch me when I pass out. I’m going to be making smoke again.”)

Hunk kept smiling at Lotor until there was indeed a change in the status quo, at least in regards to the hotel evacuation.

Black smoke billowed out of the entryway to the hotel, thick and nearly opaque. It smelled acrid and sulfuric, even before it reached them, and there was an underlying feel to it that left Hunk feeling like he could taste metal at the back of his tongue. Little flickers of orange and red popped in and out of being in the smoke, catching the eye for just a moment before vanishing again.

“What is that?” Lotor asked, his voice very, very soft.

“A demon,” Hunk said, feeling like this was appropriately dramatic while necessarily vague. “Bringing us a little taste of hell.”

“You know,” Lance’s voice echoed out of the smoke as it rushed closer, bouncing around them until they couldn’t tell where it was coming from. “I’ve seen pictures, but they really didn’t do you justice, Prince Lotor.”

“Lance, are you flirting with our supervillain archenemy?” Hunk asked.

“Well… maybe a little,” Lance sighed, and stepped out of the smoke. He looked normal, actually, and was even back in his uniform. His eyes were invisible behind the visor of his helmet. “You have to admit, Hunk, that he’s very, very pretty.”

“He’s also rude to the waitstaff,” Hunk informed him, ignoring the way the black smoke curled to a stop just a few feet away, like there was a vague wall between the café’s property and everything else.

“Oh, well, that’s never a good sign.”

“Neither is support of imperialism.”

“True, true. Still, it could be worse.”

“Much worse.”

“I’m kind of blanking on how, but I’m sure it could be.”

“Are you two _done?_ ” Lotor demanded.

“I can’t leave until you’ve paid for dinner,” Hunk pointed out.

“Terrible date etiquette, honestly,” Lance agreed, leaning against the flimsy railing and putting a hand on Hunk’s shoulders. “How is Hunk supposed to know if you’re a generous tipper if he doesn’t see how much you pay?”

(“Are you two seriously criticizing his date etiquette?” Pidge asked. “Really? Prince Lotor?”)

(“They’re doing _what.”_ Allura’s voice came over the line, long-since missed. “I was trying to stay uninvolved since I can’t help from this distance, but they’re doing _what._ ”)

(“I’m on the ground floor, heading for Hunk and Lance’s signals on my helmet screen now,” Keith reported.)

(“Sending Green down for extraction,” Pidge said. “Do you guys have a clear exit?”)

“We’ll be out of your silky hair in a moment,” Lance promised to both Pidge and Lotor, and Hunk felt Lance’s fingers tighten on his shoulder. “I’m afraid we really can’t stay.”

And just as Keith’s pounding footsteps became audible, the black smoke swallowed them.

Like always, Lance’s smoke smelled like the fire and brimstone his ancestry traced back to.

Hunk felt Lance’s other arm come around and yank him to his feet, and he scrambled to move with him and jump over the railing. The smoke was getting in his eyes and lungs, but he had a feeling that Lance was filtering the air for him a little, because it really should have been worse, given the opacity. He was half-carrying Lance now, though, so Lance’s control _might_ not have been perfect. Probably-Keith showed up at his other side after a few moments, felt along both of their chests, and then slipped under Lance’s other arm to help prop him up.

“We’re together,” Keith confirmed. “Ready for extraction.”

“Awesome,” Pidge said. “Heading towards the hotel now. Hunk, stay quiet since you don’t have the armor to kill outgoing noise. Keep moving until you’re on board.”

“Take my helmet,” Lance said, voice slurring a little, as he reached up to pull it off. “I’m not as ‘ffected.”

Hunk reached over and, with some fumbling, managed to remove the helmet from Lance’s head without dropping him. He slipped it on after giving Lance his earpiece, and activated it to air filtration mode. Clean air filled his lungs after a moment, and he breathed deep.  “Great. Awesome. I’m going to have a panic attack in about three minutes, and I’d really like to avoid throwing up in Lance’s helmet, so can you guys come pick us up and give me a bucket or something?”

“You were fine until now!” Pidge protested. “Also, what the hell is going on down there?”

“I think I might have dissociated,” Hunk admitted. “Or something. I at least did something to delay the inevitable, which means it’s probably going to be ten times worse now that the stressful part is over.”

“Lance flooded the street with smoke to hide our direction from Lotor,” Keith said immediately afterwards. “You’re going to have to hone in on our helmet signals.”

“C’n clear the air a bit,” Lance slurred, leaning heavily against Hunk’s shoulder. All the suave confidence from when he’d swaggered into Hunk’s conversation with Lotor was gone.

“Okay, you… you do that.” Pidge’s voice held a nervous edge. “Shiro, did you find a bucket?”

“Yeah, Black has one in the same place.” Shiro said. “Lance, Hunk, Keith, do you need help getting in? We’re floating right above you right now.”

“I think we can get Lance in without a problem,” Keith said. “Hey, buddy, time to get rid of the smoke nearby.”

“Don’ wanna…”

“I know,” Hunk said, “But we need your help.”

“…’kay,” Lance sighed, leaning a little more heavily against Hunk. His face and neck were visibly covered in perspiration, sweat beading into large droplets that marched their way down to the collar of his uniform. His eyes were half-open, hazy and unseeing and slit-pupiled, such a bright, glassy blue that Hunk was already worried, which only made the need to vomit more apparent.

The smoke thinned out and, after a moment, pushed back away from them in a cylinder six feet across.

“I see you!” Pidge yelled, and the Green Lion’s engines were audible after a moment. Hunk didn’t dare relax, but he looked up and squinted into the oddly blueish sun. Almost immediately, it was blocked out by the sight of the Green Lion’s head, the invisibility sliding off of it like water. Pidge didn’t land, but hovered in place, causing the black smoke to whip around and away, and opened the Lion’s mouth for them to climb in.

“There!” Lotor’s voice came, and Hunk cursed internally. He didn’t have his bayard. Keith’s range was too small with his, and Lance was out of commission for the time being. Granted, Lance had come out of a coma to shoot people before, but Hunk really couldn’t rely on something like that.

“Get inside,” Shiro yelled, jumping out and rushing past them. He held up his armor’s shield and intercepted the shots that Lotor’s guards were sending. “I’ll hold them off until you’re in.”

“It’s gonna be a rocky take-off!” Pidge said. “We’ve got Galra fighter ships coming in hot.”

“Let’s get out of atmo before too many civilians get caught up in the crossfire,” Keith grunted. “Allura, do you have a wormhole ready?”

“We’re prepared to jump as soon as the Green Lion is back on board,” Allura reported.

“Okay,” Keith grunted. “Shiro, we’re on the ramp, get in!”

Hunk didn’t know what was going on behind him, but the ramp started lifting with them on it, and a moment later he could hear the tell-tale clanging of Shiro jumping up onto the metal flooring. Without even hesitating, Shiro scooped Lance up into a bridal carry and headed in further towards the U-turn stairs that would take them into the cockpit. Pidge hadn’t been lying when she said that the take-off would be rough, and the Green Lion shuddered around them as, presumably, she took to doing evasive maneuvers.

Hunk pushed himself to make his way up the stairs, and could feel Keith edge in to try and prop him up a bit.

“I can walk,” he said.

“How soon are you going to throw up?”

“…get the bucket,” Hunk said, because he could feel it. He was mostly out of danger, and he could feel the unnatural calmness fading away, replaced by shaking fingers and too much saliva and a tightness in the back of his neck.

Keith helped him sit down, pulled off Lance’s helmet from Hunk’s head, and then ran the rest of the way up the stairs to the cockpit. Voices swam around and over him, and Hunk clapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to just _hold it down_ until he could vomit without getting it in the grating of the Green Lion’s stairs.

“Here.” Shiro’s voice accompanied the sight of a grey bucket entering Hunk’s field of vision. Hunk didn’t wait any longer, just grabbed the bucket and bent over, vomiting out the lunch he’d just had. Hunk could feel the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, could feel his breath speeding up as the situation finally crashed down on him.

Shiro’s hand rubbed against his back, comforting as best he knew how.

“I just had lunch with Lotor,” Hunk gasped out. “I just… I just called him out on shit and pretended to be suave and I just—”

He cut himself off as another wave of nausea hit, and leaned forward to expel some more of the contents from his stomach.

“You did well,” Shiro said, continuing to rub his back. “It’s okay to freak out a bit now that it’s over.”

“I-I-I shouldn’t be freaking out _now_ , though,” Hunk moaned. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and there was an odd tightness in the muscles under his eyes. “It’s over. I’m n-not in danger of getting stabbed by-y Evil Overlord junior anymore.”

“Delayed panic responses aren’t uncommon,” Shiro said, squeezing his shoulder. “Dissociating due to the stress wouldn’t surprise me. You said as much yourself.”

“Yeah, but,” he sucked in a deep breath, “Isn’t that usually for l-like… really long-term stuff? I was only down there f-f-f-f-for a few… oh no.”

Hunk threw up again. His stomach was starting to feel very empty, and most of what was coming up at this point was bile. He’d be dry-heaving soon.

The vomiting was doing more to keep him from hyperventilating than anything else, funnily enough.

Pidge’s voice floated down from above and behind. “ _Of course I’m doing my best to outfly them, but I’ve got four unresponsive or occupied teammates in my lion and I’m kind of distracted, Allura!”_

“You sh-sh-sh-should go,” Hunk managed to get out. He didn’t _want_ Shiro to leave him alone, but Pidge probably needed him more right now. “I can h-h-h-handle myself un-until we get to the castle.”

“You sure?” Shiro asked.

Hunk nodded, closing his eyes and reaching out with one hand to grasp the railing as the Green Lion jolted again. “Go h-h-h-help Pidge.”

“Alright,” Shiro sighed, and left.

It took several minutes for Hunk to get his mind to stop screaming in a wordless panic. It wasn’t the usual kind of panic, where his brain insistently ran through disastrous scenarios that were only more and more unlikely, things that probably wouldn’t happen but _could_ because of the war. It wasn’t the usual kind of panic, where there was a clear and present danger, or the kind of anxiety that hit him at night and made him get worked up over hypotheticals that he had no basis for beyond the war itself.

Right now, the panic was nearly wordless, with only vague thoughts of “it could have gone so much worse, and here’s how” and “what if I fucked up and gave away crucial information” floating through his head.

There was a jarring thud as Green landed in the hangar, upsetting his stomach enough that he threw up again.

Ugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBH these past two chapters have felt like a really half-assed attempt at a Leverage plot, in hindsight.


	22. Acacia and Red Columbine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a truly obnoxious amount of fluff and cuddling, and very little else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: more blood drinking, and Allura's perspective on Keith's Galra form, which is... a lot of discomfort based in her grief and traumas

Allura was alone when they made it through the wormhole, given that Coran had already rushed off to the hangars to greet the paladins as soon as they’d given notice that they were on their way up to the gas giant. As soon as she’d flown the Castle through to the other side, however, letting the wormhole collapse behind them, she disengaged from the controls and sprinted for the Green Lion’s hangar.

_It was just supposed to be reconnaissance._

(Goodness, she hadn’t even changed into her battle uniform, just assumed command in her usual dress.)

“Who’s hurt?” She demanded as she finally made it in. Coran was crouched down next to Hunk, who was sitting on the floor and leaning against Green’s paw, looking like he was about to be violently ill.

“No one got injured,” Shiro told her. “But Hunk’s anxiety spiked pretty badly as soon as we got out, and Lance is going to need some time to recover from how exhausted he is.”

“Where is he?” Allura asked, scanning through the room. “And Keith and Pidge?”

“Still inside of Green. Pidge is running some diagnostic checks to make sure there weren’t any issues from the Galra ships, and to make sure Lance and Keith don’t go too far.”

“Too far?” Allura questioned.

“Lance is too exhausted to think straight, and Keith managed to sort of… coax him? I guess? Into drinking some blood, but you know how he dazes out sometimes when Lance bites down.” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d go check on them myself, but right now I’m trying to make sure Hunk calms down. He keeps looking like he’s about to get back to normal, and then something just sets him off, and it’s… well, it’s a panic attack, simple enough. Hard to deal with an anxiety disorder even in a normal setting, let alone in a war.”

“I don’t… think I can do much to help with that,” Allura said, looking over at where Coran was talking softly to Hunk, hand on his shoulder. “I think I’ll go see if I can help Lance and Keith. We’ll meet up in the recreation center. I imagine Lance will feel better with a certain degree of physical affection after today.”

“Wh—oh, right. The vampire possessiveness thing.” Shiro pursed his lips for a moment, thinking, and then blew out a slow breath. “I’ll see about contacting the Blade of Marmora to set up a meeting to discuss what happened today. Do you think you and Coran can get the rest of the team up to the rec room without me?”

“It’ll be no trouble,” Allura assured him. “I’ll remind you that I am much stronger than a human is.”

“I was more concerned about getting them mentally collected enough to start moving,” Shiro admitted. “Try not to carry someone unless they tell you to, please.”

“I doubt Lance would mind, but I’ll keep it in mind for the others,” Allura said, and headed up into the Green Lion.

She came across the sight of Pidge pulling Lance away from Keith’s neck, a heavy bruise featuring on the pale skin of his neck. Lance had apparently gotten enough time to close the skin over, but there was a glazed look to his eyes that Allura didn’t like. Paired with the ashen tinge to his skin, the way he swayed in place as Pidge held his shoulder, and the heavy way he was breathing, it was worrying at best.

“Lance?” Allura tried. His head swung her way, but it took a long moment for his eyes to focus on her. She took a few steps closer and crouched down near him. Out the corner of her eye, she could see Keith blinking and shaking himself back into awareness. She ignored him, for the moment. “Lance, do you know where you are?”

“Green Lion,” he answered. “We’re… I’m not in a weird headspace, ‘Llura, just _reeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaally_ tired.”

“Okay,” she said. “Just checking.”

“Where’s Hunk?” Lance asked as Allura wrapped her arms under his and pulled him to his feet. Pidge helped Keith get up, but they both seemed much better off than Lance did, unsurprisingly.

“Outside the lion,” Allura said. “We’re all going to go up to the recreation center as soon as we’ve made sure you’re all alright.”

“…I want a shower,” Lance muttered. He didn’t react much as Allura picked him up in both arms, in something that the other paladins had previously called a bridal carry. He just curled in closer to her chest and craned his head to press his nose into her neck. “But I gotta make sure everyone’s okay. Gotta make sure Hunk’s okay. His anxiety gets bad.”

“Hunk’s going to be fine,” Keith said. “He knows how to handle his anxiety. Today was bad, but he’ll be okay after he has some time to get back to normal.”

“I know, but… I should have been able to get him out faster,” Lance huffed. “But there were all these _trees_ , and—”

“And we did what we could, and everyone got out fine,” Keith cut him off. “Pidge, tell him.”

“There weren’t any injuries, and the worst physical issue anyone came out with was your physical exhaustion. Hunk’s panic attack notwithstanding, he got out fine too.” She readjusted her glasses. “Trust me, I’m a genius.”

Hunk was not where Allura had left him, so she assumed that Coran had managed to help him start heading for the recreation center.

“Allura?”

“Yes, Lance?”

“I’m _really_ thirsty,” he breathed out.

She considered that for a moment. She’d already known, of course, but hoped that what he’d gotten from Keith was enough to at least take the edge off. Seeing as that wasn’t the case…

“Here,” she said, manhandling Lance (and ignoring his squawk of surprise) around her body until he was hanging off her back. She unclipped her dress’s cape and tilted her head to the side. “I assure you that I can continue walking even as you drink.”

“Maybe stop while I bite? So that I don’t do more damage than I planned to?” Lance suggested, though there was a whine in his voice, and Allura could already feel his nose and mouth brushing over the thin skin that covered the side of her neck. After a moment, he was layering down open-mouthed kisses with a nip behind each one, not breaking skin, but a warning that he soon would be.

Or maybe he just felt like giving her a… what had he said humans called the bruises? A hickey? Whatever.

“You can bite once we make it to the elevator, then,” she said, ignoring the heat that threatened to build in her abdomen from the soft sucking on unbroken skin.

“So you can drink in like… thirty seconds,” Pidge said.

“And since you said Altean blood has more quintessence than human, it’ll probably help more than mine did,” Keith said, and Allura didn’t bring up that Keith already had more quintessence than the average human, given his Galra heritage. It was more obvious when he was in Galra form, of course, but he still had noticeably higher quantities of quintessence than the three fully human paladins.

“You can bite now,” Allura said, coming to a stop before the elevator and letting Keith dart forward to hit the button to call it down.

The sensation of Lance biting into her neck was… well, it certainly wasn’t _pleasant_. It was like a sharp pinching sensation at first, something that was unsurprising with how long and tapered his fangs were when fully unsheathed. The numbness crept in moments later as he pulled the fangs back out and focused on drinking instead, though she could feel the steady press of his throat against her shoulder whenever he swallowed. She ignored it all as the elevator arrived, and she stepped in, Keith and Pidge following in.

By the time they made it to the recreation center, three minutes had passed. Hunk was sitting on the couch in clear view hugging his knees and staring at the table. A scrap of clothing was discarded on a nearby armchair, though none of Hunk’s ‘casual tourist’ disguise seemed to be missing, and Coran was fiddling with something on the wall. It was the dispenser for the water pouches, if she recalled correctly, but she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Finish drinking,” Allura ordered when Lance moved as though to pull away. She brought one hand up from where it had been holding his leg, and pressed it to the back of his head. “Two more minutes.”

“But _Hunk_ …” Lance protested.

“Two more minutes,” Allura repeated. “And then you can go to him. Everything is handled right now, so take care of yourself first.”

He huffed in frustration, but went back to drinking. Allura let go of his legs, and didn’t let him jar her as he dropped back to the ground and stood straight to drink.

“You took off your binder?” Pidge asked, going over to perch on the arm of the couch.

“It was… I was having trouble breathing sometimes. Easier without it,” Hunk managed to say. He held out a hand and made a grabbing motion. “Come here.”

Pidge shrugged and pulled her chest armor off. She slid down to the cushions, scooting over until Hunk could wrap an arm around her and pull her in against his side. She kept pulling the rest of her armor off, bit by bit,

“Uh, Lance?” Keith caught their attention. “I think it’s been five minutes.”

That was enough for Lance to heal up the bite marks and pull away, quick as a tick. He headed for Hunk immediately, pulling off his armor on the way and dropping it on the floor as he went.

“You’re picking that up later,” Allura said.

Lance didn’t appear to hear her, as he was a little preoccupied with hopping on one foot as he yanked his boots off.

Coran finally turned away from the wall, a cluster of water pouches on the tray he held.

“Lance?” He asked. “Do you need some help?”

“No, no, I got this, I just—you know what, screw it,” Lance disappeared for a moment, turning himself to white smoke, and letting his remaining clothing fall to the ground in the process. When he came back to normal, in full demon form, Allura was relieved to see that he’d at least kept his underthings on.

“Put some pants on, asshole,” Keith said.

“Later,” Lance said dismissively, rushing forward to Hunk and grabbing his face with both hands.

“Hey,” Hunk said, his cheeks a little squished by Lance’s hands.

“You’re okay?”

“Could be better,” Hunk said, cracking a grin that wasn’t all that sincere.

Lance hissed, a mostly human but wholly displeased sound, and clambered forward to sit on Hunk’s lap, straddling his legs in the process and doing his best to avoid squishing Pidge. His wings stretched out over the couch to surround the three of them, tail coming down to wrap tightly around Hunk’s leg. Allura couldn’t see much past the wings, but she could see Lance wrapping his arms around Hunk’s shoulders and pressing the side of his face into Hunk’s neck. In turn, Hunk’s arms wrapped around Lance’s waist and pulled him closer.

Unsurprisingly, this position seemed to have a calming effect on both of them.

Pidge poked her head up past Lance’s wing, pulling it down a little so she could actually look at Keith and Allura directly. “If we’re in this cuddle pile, then so are the rest of you. Get over here.”

Lance pulled one hand away from Hunk for long enough to raise it up and around his wing and reach out to them. He didn’t make grasping motions or otherwise indicate for them to come closer, but the meaning was clear.

Keith moved first, pulling his armor off until he was in just the fabric undersuit, much like Pidge, and pulled Lance’s wing up until he could squirm his way in against Hunk’s other side.

Lance didn’t put his hand down until Allura sighed and made her way over, shooting Coran a look as she did, a silent question as to whether he’d join in. He just shrugged. She sat down next to Keith, and part of her marveled a little at the fact that Lance’s wingspan was enough to cover all of them with room to spare.

“Keith,” Lance said, but apparently wasn’t in the mood to work with full sentences, because all he said after that was, “Fuzzy.”

“I…” Keith shot Allura a look, on that clearly said ‘I have no idea if this is something you’re okay with.’ He looked over at Lance again, meeting the slit-pupiled blue eyes with his own. “I left my Balmera crystal in the pocket in my armor, Lance. It’s on the floor.”

“I’ll get it,” Coran said. “But I’d like to make sure you all have something to drink, first.”

Lance snorted, but he didn’t argue, just pulled back and away, cinching in his wings, to give everyone the maneuverability they needed to take the water pouches. Coran watched carefully to make sure they all did, in fact, drink, and then nodded. He bent down to the red and white armor and turned it over.

“Left arm storage,” Keith told him around the straw in his mouth. “Um… Allura? Are you—”

“It’s fine,” she said. She had to get used to his Galra form in close contact eventually, after all, and this was as comfortable a situation as she was likely to get.

“Um…” Keith leaned forward a little. “Can someone get my zipper? I don’t need to take my clothes off, but there isn’t really anywhere for my tail to go, so…”

Allura reached over and got it for him, tugging the zipper down to the small of his back. He ended up pulling it down further, until his tail realistically  _could_ come out without discomfort.

Coran dropped the small crystal into Keith’s waiting hand, and then stepped back and looked over the five of them. After a moment, he held out a hand towards Pidge, the first to finish her water. Within moments, he’d collected the empty pouches and headed off to dispose of them.

In the meantime, Allura tried to keep her breathing and heartrate under control.

The thing was, she knew that sitting next to her was Keith. She trusted Keith, in a lot of ways, and it wasn’t fair to either of them that her first response to any reminder of his mixed heritage was a subconscious siren, forged in the fires of the genocide of Altea, screaming ‘DANGER DANGER DANGER.’ He hadn’t been raised in Zarkon’s Empire. He’d risked his life alongside hers, and when he was in his human form, she didn’t mind being near him at all, or at least no more than she did, say, Hunk or Shiro. And his Galra form was, from a distance of a few feet or more, not an issue anymore, not after several months spent working with the Blade of Marmora. She could handle sparring, and military operations, and shaking hands, and a number of similar things without trouble.

Cuddling was… a different story.

It helped that Keith didn’t smell Galra. Allura knew her nose was a fairly dull sense compared to many species, including Galra and, apparently, incubi, but she’d spent enough time in Galra company before the war to associate certain smells with them, smells that hadn’t changed over the course of ten thousand years. And Keith didn’t smell Galra, or if he did, it was overwhelmed at the moment by the frankly distasteful smell of sulfur.

(That was Lance’s fault, she knew, inasmuch as the things he’d done to ensure the success of the mission and extract Hunk from a dangerous position could be considered a _fault_.)

But there was purple fur at the edge of her vision, a fluffy-ended tail laying across the black-clad legs next to hers, barely visible past Lance’s wings, and large, furry ears that she could feel batting against her head whenever they twitched.

She closed her eyes, reached over with one hand, and slid her fingers through Keith’s, lacing them together and holding his hand.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly.

“I do,” she said, and after a moment’s hesitation, let her head fall to the side to rest on his shoulder.

 _This is fine_ , she told herself. _It’s just Keith. I trust him with so many other things. I can trust him even when he looks Galra._

_This. Is. Fine._

“Try petting,” Lance said, and Allura opened her eyes to see him watching the two of them. “It’s hard to be scared of a guy that’s too busy purring to do his usual murder pout.”

“I don’t have murder pout,” Keith said, his voice flat.

“It’s a murder pout,” Hunk agreed.

“Very Winter Soldier,” Pidge added.

“Wouldn’t Shiro be more of a Bucky parallel, though?” Keith sounded confused. Past the rest of them, Allura noticed that Coran had finished up with disposing of the empty pouches and taken a seat next to Pidge under Lance’s wing.

“Because of the arm?” Lance asked. “Or because of the whole captured-by-enemies and amnesia thing?”

“…yes?” Keith shrugged, jostling Allura. He didn’t seem to realize it. She sat back up straight and eyed his larger-than-average (even for a Galra) ears, fighting down the instinctive rush of anxiety. Making her decision, she pulled her hand away from his and slowly raised it. “I mean, as far as personality goes, he’s more like Cap, but— _oh_.”

Allura watched Keith’s eyes, acid yellow and featureless, widen for a long moment, and then slowly slide back to almost closed as she rubbed at the skin and fur behind his ears. He slouched, looking almost boneless as he went, and fell against her, heavy as a sack of Morrussixian flour. She felt his tail whip back and forth across their laps, almost lazy in its uncontrolled movements, and it didn’t bother her quite as much as it might have.

And then Keith started purring.

It was, Allura decided after a moment, a much cuter situation than she’d anticipated. With a little prodding, Keith went from simply leaning against her to sprawled out over her lap, which made it less of a pain in her arm to do what she’d been doing. She hesitated before she started petting again, though, looking down at the undeniably purple form laying across her legs, half-hidden by the dark blue skin of Lance’s wing.

Keith cracked open an eye and looked up at her, or at least that was what she assumed he was doing. It was hard to tell which way a Galra was looking, considering the lack of visibly distinguishable pupils and irises. He frowned, just barely.

“Is something wrong?” He finally asked.

“I… wasn’t sure if this was alright,” Allura said hesitantly. “I didn’t… exactly _ask_ , so—”

“It’s fine,” Keith said, closing his eyes. “I’m good with it if you are.”

As if to prove this point, he tucked his feet up onto the couch, squeezing them in between his own body and Hunk’s right leg. His tail curled up and around Lance’s leg instead, not quite out of sight under the wing, but difficult to see.

Hesitantly, Allura dropped a hand down to scratch behind his ears again, and felt her breath hitch when he started purring.

Part of her wanted to coo; the Galra were not the only species that used purring as a signal of contentment, though they were among a very small number as far as sapient species went. Allura had pet any number of small, less-developed creatures that would purr when she did so, and the sound had associated itself in her mind with sweetness and calm.

On the other hand, there was a tinge to the noise that was distinctly Galra, something that pinged on her radar as former-friend-betrayal-current-enemy- _beware_. It was a feeling she smothered as quickly as she could, though she imagined that Keith, at least, had noticed the sudden tensing of her abdominal muscles and the stutter in the motions of her hand.

 _He’s a friend. He’s an ally. He is_ not _a traitor._

She kept petting him, letting her left hand drift over to lace her fingers with his again. Running her fingers through his hair led to him nuzzling against her leg which was… well, it was embarrassing, for entirely different reasons.

Allura felt something wrap around her left hand, and looked down to see Lance’s tail, smoother-skinned than Keith’s, to the point of being downright glossy, with no hair or fur the way that a Galra tail had. It was curled around the hand that Allura had joined with Keith’s. The flat of the arrowhead tip, at its standard size of perhaps… er… three or four inches? Was that the human term? Was she using it correctly? Whatever the size was considered, it lay flat against the back of her wrist, just slightly longer than her palm, edges blunted and safe.

She didn’t let her hand pause, but looked over to meet Lance’s eyes.

He wasn’t the only one looking at her. Hunk was also watching, and Pidge had apparently started standing on the couch to look over the top of her teammates. All three were smiling, or even outright grinning.

“Don’t,” Allura said, which only made their expressions widen. “Don’t… say anything.”

“Anything,” Pidge said, prompting a glare from Allura. She just grinned wider.

Lance’s tail squeezed lightly, and Allura met his eyes again, face fixed in what she _knew_ was a pout, though she couldn’t make herself stop.

“Thank you,” was all he said, and though he didn’t let go of her hand or Keith’s, he did close his eyes and turn his head away to press his face into Hunk’s neck.

Allura let her gaze fall back down to the Galra boy in her lap, and thought _this is fine, he’s safe, this isn’t a problem._

The more she repeated it, if only to herself, the more true it felt.

“Well, looks like I’ve been missing out on a cuddle party.” Shiro’s voice came from the entryway, and he while he sounded tired, it wasn’t the worrying kind of emotional exhaustion that she’d heard from him in the hangar. “Mind if I join in?”

Allura pushed up Lance’s wing in a silent invitation, and Shiro dropped off the armor and slid in beside her. He was warm at her side, but that warmth didn’t hide his surprise at seeing Keith’s head in her lap, Galra and purring.

His eyes flicked up to hers, concern evident.

“It was my idea,” she said, because everything but the initial shapeshift had been.

“Alright,” Shiro sighed, and then looked down at Keith again. He smiled softly and reached over to join in on the petting. “Who’d have thought that the stabby brat I mentored at the Garrison could end up so adorable?”

“Fuck off,” Keith muttered, without any noticeable venom.

“Nah,” Shiro laughed. “But I should probably mention now, before we all zone out a bit, that the Blade is coming by tomorrow to discuss yesterday’s events. They seemed a little… concerned? I guess? About what Lance did with the smoke.”

“I can give ‘em a basic rundown on what I can do,” Lance said, turning to look at them. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Alright, then.” Shiro sank back into the couch. “Let’s see how that goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah I'm running out of buffer chapters because of classes and the decision to write a chapter for Turn Back the Clock when JaLD 23 gave me some writer's block, and also because classes. (Whoo!)
> 
> This probably seems like an extra-short chapter but it's hit my minimum word count so... *shrug*
> 
> ALSO THIS FIC IS NOW OVER 100K. WHY. WHAT HAVE I DONE???  
> (This fic was supposed to be three chapters long, with a plot that covered the first arc and that's it. WHOOPS.)


	23. Ice Plant and Gloryflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes to Hell... wait, no, got that backwards. Sorry! Hell is coming here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a bit iffy about this chapter, but it's kind of necessary to drive home "Lance can be scary as fuck, but also it's a bad idea."
> 
>  
> 
> **WARNING: there is a narrowly-avoided panic attack towards the end of the chapter. A character is triggered by something, but was given adequate warning to cope, and the trigger is removed as soon as the response is noted. Exposure to the trigger was informed and consensual, and also non-sexual.**

“You said you weren’t human,” Kolivan said, staring at Lance with an unnervingly even gaze.

“Uh… yeah. Half incubus. I know I told you that.”

“You didn’t say that you have magic,” Kolivan stressed.

Lance raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not… I’m not actually any _good_ at most things. Glamours are pretty much the only useful thing I have without either a lot of prep time, an outside source of power, or half-killing myself out of exhaustion.”

“The smoke.” Kolivan’s voice was so flat that it didn’t even sound like a question.

“I pretty much passed out after that stunt, yeah,” Lance laughed a little awkwardly. “That was… a bit of a last ditch effort.”

“And this is… a common trait of your species, then?” Kolivan asked.

“Kiiiind of? We’re not the only ones that can do magic, but the smoke creation is just an element of the hell connection, which, I mean, we’re definitely demonically influenced, so— _why are you looking at me like that?”_

Silence spread through the room, and Lance couldn’t get over the fact that halfway through his talking, all the Blade members had jerked in shock, or even gone so far to as to take a step back from him.

“You said you were… influenced by _what?”_ Kolivan said carefully, voice low and just this side of suspicious, but surprisingly even.

“…okay, I’m going to need to know what you guys hear when I say the word ‘demon.’” Lance licked his lips. “Allura said that Alteans hear it as ‘monster of the afterlife.’ What do, uh, what do you hear?”

“The meaning of the Galra word that I hear is… something to the effect of ‘corrupted spirit.’” Kolivan said, his voice _still_ unnervingly even.

Lance’s response was, he felt, unsurprising. The rest of the team didn’t seem taken aback when all he offered was an extended, high-pitched, groaning, “Eeeeeeeeeh.”

“The word ‘demon’ covers a wide range of concepts,” Shiro said, placating to the last.

“I mean, you’re not… wrong? Ish?” Lance said. “I mean. It really depends on what you mean by corrupted. And spirit.”

“I don’t think you’re really fighting for your case very well,” Keith said. He looked amused, the bastard.

“He’s not entirely wrong, though?” Lance said. “It’s just… it’s _complicated_. And it was weird enough explaining to Allura and Coran when they _didn’t_ have any… uh… Pidge? Help a buddy out here?”

“Preconceived notions?”

“Yeah, that.” Lance bit his lip, slowly pulling it out from between his teeth as he thought. “Okay, so I’m going to ask about what Galra myths or urban legends or just like… approaches to religion or the afterlife or the supernatu—”

“Let’s stick to something a little narrower,” Coran suggested. “We may not have time for a complete cultural exchange in this respect.”

Lance pouted, crossing his arms. “Fine. But seriously, I’m not… I’m not _evil_. My species isn’t _evil_. Hell, even the original concubi were brokering deals, more than anything. They weren’t even as tricky about it as the fae. Just ‘what do you want’ and ‘here’s a contract’ and ‘when you die you’re going to work for us’ and that’s it. I mean, the concubi were obviously usually trading something relating to sex or beauty or fertility, but demons overall were just like… lawyers that ran contracts on souls instead of money.”

“Aren’t all lawyers evil?” Pidge asked.

“…Pidge, your _mom_ is a lawyer.” Shiro said, sounding somewhere between amused and offended.

“She’s the exception, obviously.” Pidge waved him off.

“I don’t know, the lady that helped me get my dad’s stuff after I was emancipated was doing the whole thing pro bono. I’d say _she’s_ probably not evil,” Keith said.

“Lawyers are just as likely to be good or evil as anyone else,” Shiro interrupted, his voice indicating that he was feeling more than a little dead inside.

“Can I just say that I think we’re getting off topic?” Hunk raised a hand and waved it for attention for a moment. “Back to the demon stuff?”

“Right. So. Original concubi were basically just working off a soul debt to hell for a trade they’d made while alive, mostly by collecting energy by having sex with people, which sounds ridiculous when I lay it out like that. My kind of concubi is a bit more complicated, because of an incident from two and a half thousand years ago where a woman made the deal, but got turned by a vampire, and then kind of ended up stuck in an in between state that lead to my breed of concubus being a thing?” Lance took a deep breath. “So I’m just… yeah. I have some magic. I can do some stuff with hell portals. I need to drink blood to survive, and sexual activity tops up my energy reserves in a way that it doesn’t for other species. I think I’m basically feeding off of the quintessence?”

“You _feed_ on _quintessence?”_ One of the Blade members demanded.

“Kind of?” Lance squeaked. “I mean, definitely, but only in quantities small enough to leave no lasting damage, just a little fatigue, which isn’t even a big deal since people go to sleep right after sex _anyway_ a lot of the time. I mean, it _is_ possible for a full concubus to fuck someone to death, but it’s heavily frowned upon and has been illegal since the supernatural community got integrated into the overarching governmental structure a few centuries ago. I couldn’t even do it if I tried, since I’m only half. I could maybe get someone to a coma but—”

Hunk put a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a good time to stop talking.”

Lance drooped, and Hunk pulled his hand away. “Listen, I just… I’m not a danger to you or anyone else. Some of my powers might hurt bystanders, like smoke inhalation from yesterday, but that’s no more or less of a danger than the rest of what we do as Voltron, and my kind of smoke is less dangerous than a usual fire’s smoke anyway. Definitely less dangerous than getting shot or stepped on by a Robeast.”

Kolivan stared at him for a long moment, face still impassive. “Earlier, you mentioned a term that is not… translating fully, I believe.”

“Yeah?”

“Something to the effect of ‘beyond organic.’”

Lance frowned. “You mean… supernatural?”

Kolivan blinked. “It translated differently this time, but I believe it is the same word, yes. I can’t quite choose a single word to describe what the changing translations are trying to imply.”

“Supernatural is a word that is used to describe magical creatures and entities that are beyond human, not quite mundane,” Hunk explained. “Creatures from myths and legends with no known real counterpart, humans that have magic or did something to make themselves something _more_ in a way that science can’t explain, people that are under curses or blessings that make them something else.”

“And the main connecting factor is that those mundane humans generally don’t believe in the supernatural, or are mocked for believing,” Shiro added.

“Well, _duh_. We keep ourselves separate from the mundane communities as much as possible for a reason!” Lance threw his hands up in the air. “Witch hunts were a _thing_ and a lot of people died! Innocent people, and yeah, some of them were legitimately witches, but most of them weren’t even magical! And this happened in multiple places! At multiple points in history!”

“Okay, time to drop off the subject,” Hunk said, wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulders and pulling tight. “Going back to the main point: yes, he’s a demon, which is a kind of supernatural creature. In our world, the three functions that demons perform are basically to barter for souls that will then _become_ demons, to collect energy or other resources for the Hell-that-might-not-be-the-Biblical-one, and basically just running that entire sub-dimension.”

“If you ask a sufficiently religious person—”

“Lance, no.”

“—then corrupting the living so they can’t go to Heaven upon dying is also on that list of duties, as is torturing the dead souls of people who sinned in life,” Lance finished. “Hunk, I’m not going to pretend that’s not a major belief about pretty much all demonic species.”

“Yeah, but…” Hunk eyed him, face worried.

“I’m not going to start questioning my faith or my own validity as a person because I brought up a common belief about demons that many demons _themselves_ share, Hunk.” Lance bumped his shoulder into Hunk’s. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I _do_ , though,” Hunk muttered. “You do it even without bringing it up.”

Lance pressed their upper arms together, feeling the heat radiating off of his best friend. “I’m fine right now, though.”

“Why were you so worried when Lance said he was a demon?” Keith asked Kolivan, pulling the conversation back on track. “You weren’t freaked out until that.”

“There are myths in Galra culture, just as there are in most cultures across the universe that have a concept of fiction or faith,” Kolivan said carefully. “The… allow me a moment to speak without the translators working… the _ok-vari_ are an old myth, though one that has stayed strong in the Galra Empire since before Zarkon’s reign, regarding malicious spirits. Not… not remnants of the deceased, but entities beyond our understanding or ability to sense, whose primary purpose is to make life difficult or downright nightmarish for the living.”

Lance tilted his head. “I mean… that’s actually pretty close to Earth’s myths, too. And kind of accurate for some of hell’s true demons. Not all of them, and we don’t know what’s going on in the _actual_ afterlife, but overall it’s—”

“Wait, I thought you said you didn’t know if the hell you can visit is the biblical hell?” Pidge interrupted.

“—kind of a… what? I mean,” Lance took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes, there’s extensive debate in academic circles about whether the hell we can visit is the biblical one. I’m of the opinion that it’s probably not, but that it’s probably _connected_ but still a separate, lesser circle that isn’t actually what we’d consider biblical because _nobody that’s actually dead_ is there unless they sold their soul first. There’s no damned souls being tortured for their sins or anything in the one we can visit, just a lot of demons hanging around trying to get some shit done without setting their paperwork on fire because of the environment. Which, I mean, they’re doing better now. The past few centuries have seen a _lot_ of improvement in the living world’s fire-resistant materials and temperature control, so there’s actually air-conditioned office buildings and stuff in some of the milder areas now.”

Hunk raised a hand. “I’d like to point out that Lance can’t actually _visit_ Hell on his own. He can survive if someone else takes him, but his only chance of going there on his own requires like… a week of preparation and materials we don’t actually have access to.”

“Also I don’t want to try it while this far from Earth. Even if I had the right materials with me, who _knows_ where I’d end up at the end of the teleport?” Lance shuddered. “Way easier to just summon things.”

“You said…” one of the Marmorites said, shrinking back when everyone turned to look at him. “You said, earlier, that many on your planet do not believe in you. That you are hidden.”

“Supernatural creatures as a whole keep separate from most of human society, yeah,” Lance confirmed. “Whether or not any individual believes in us is a separate deal, but ultimately the fact of the matter is that a lot of people _don’t_ believe, and the ones who do believe but don’t have any existing ties to the community, just believe in old stories on faith, they just don’t have the proof to convince people who don’t believe.”

“Kind of like conspiracy theories,” Keith offered.

“I already confirmed yetis for you, and you’re literally part space alien with clear-cut evidence that there have been aliens on Earth. _What more do you want from me?”_ Lance lamented, draping himself over the table.

Keith patted his head. “Nothing.”

Lance pouted at him.

“If it means anything, not that it probably does,” Hunk said, “But Lance hasn’t actually gone full demon around you guys.”

Lance shot up straight in his seat again, head whipping around to glare at his best friend. “ _Hunk.”_

Lance was summarily ignored.

“We’ve seen him go full demon form or whatever, though?” Pidge said, frowning.

“Full demon _form_ , yeah.” Hunk finally met Lance’s eyes. “But that’s not really…”

“Hunk.”

“They deserve to know. It’s been, like, seven months since we got out here. They’ve known you’re not human for a significant chunk of that.” Hunk rubbed the back of his head. “C’mon, Lance. They won’t judge, not after everything else.”

Lance looked at the still-tense Marmorites. “ _They_ might.”

Keith ruffled his hair. “Yeah, well, you guys had to deal with me finding out I’m part Galra. They can deal with finding out you’re something they’ve been trained to fear too.”

“Ha!” Lance barked out a laugh, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Is this dangerous?” Shiro asked. “Or morally objectionable?”

“It’s just… scary.” Hunk bit his lip. “Induced an anxiety attack the first few times I witnessed it.”

“He insisted on getting desensitized,” Lance muttered.

“I’m friends with an entire family of demons and my best friend is a half-demon hybrid. I feel like it was a good choice!” Hunk protested. “Now… just show them, Lance. They can’t react worse than I did.”

Lance’s eyes flickered over to him, and then he sighed and started pulling off his jacket. “Turn on the ventilation as high as you can. It’s going to smell like sulfur soon, and I’ve been told that that’s a smell that most people don’t want to have sinking into their couch cushions.”

Coran tapped something on a screen, and Lance absently heard the noise of the fans kick up. His back felt a little cold, since he was wearing the pale blue backless sweater he’d spent a few weeks knitting in his free time.

He closed his eyes and stood up, shifting to demon form as he went. “You might want to give me some space. Also, this is draining as hell, so…”

“I’ll go heat up a steak,” Hunk said. “I’ve seen this all before.”

Lance waited until he felt the rest of the people in the room back away, and then breathed out slowly as he opened up his eyes.

There was a burning sensation in his chest, raging and amused.

“I’m going to hold this for thirty seconds, max.” Lance kept his voice very, very even. “This is the sort of thing that _does_ induce panic attacks, fight or flight responses, and occasionally fear-induced paralysis. If I think I’ve triggered someone’s PTSD, I am going to stop. There is an element of glamours and illusions to this that’s strong enough to edge into mind magics, so if anyone isn’t okay with that, _tell me now_.”

No one told him to stop.

The thing was, Lance thought, that no one ever _expected_ what an incubus going full demon meant.

Concubi, especially the originals, were tied to both hell and humanity equally. They provided pleasure and gorged themselves at the same time. They were a connection of sorts, the kind of demon that interacted with humanity so directly that few others could compare.

An original concubus going all out was a demon that was terrifying because they did not slip into the realm of eldritch abominations and animalistic monstrosities as so many others did. Concubi stayed just this side of humanoid, just this side of inhumanly gorgeous, just this side of entrancing, just this side of ‘eyes on me, mortal, or _else_.’

A vampiric subspecies concubus was all that, but worse.

It was magic, really. An old magic, a potent magic, something more instinctive and deeply powerful than Lance’s usual smoke and mirrors, which just plain _fucking hilarious_ , really, since so much of this was an element of illusion anyway.

Also, the literal smoke.

Lance closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and pulled on the core of fire and laughter in his chest.

He was only half-incubus, so he couldn’t make fire on the fly, but he didn’t need to, not for this.

He breathed out, opened his eyes, and let it loose.

Black smoke furled out from his feet, pulsing out across the floor until it hit the wall, slapping up against the edges and falling back onto itself, and then _turning, turning, turning_ around the room like a whirlpool. Flares of red and orange and deep yellow flashed about between the folds, like lightning in the storm. At Lance’s feet, they were thick enough to be a glow, lighting him up from below.

(The lights in the ceiling flickered and went out.)

The smoke was accompanied, unsurprisingly, with a… pressure, of sorts. Lance had never known how else to describe it, because it really was just that. Emotional and mental pressure, a form of intimidation so magical that there wasn’t a way to put it in words. It was an illusion torn from so deep inside him that it went back to hell.

It was an illusion that said ‘look at me, mortal. I am more than you have ever been. I am more than you will ever _be._ Pay. Attention.’

(And he felt it. _God_ , he felt it, the condescending, raging humor that a true demon felt when encountering a human. He hated it, but there was a part of him that gloried in the fake power, that got high on the looks of dawning horror and the sound of racing pulses that met his senses as his illusion pressed down on them and said ‘fear me.’)

He flared his wings, smiled with his fangs at full length, and tilted his head. Tucking his hands behind his back, he took a step forward. He knew his eyes were glowing, a bright, bright blue that made them look larger than they should have, slit-pupiled and all. “What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t his voice. Lance’s voice was a high-pitched thing, a little young, a little plaintive, a little disarming with how innocent he seemed. Lance’s _voice_ was something that suited him as a person, something that suited his age and personality and humanity.

This. This was not Lance’s voice.

It was layered, with multiple pitches that were harmonic but in a minor key, like a song shifted just wrong in tone until a cutesy children’s song became a horrifying mockery of itself. Some of those pitches went off the slightest bit earlier or later, not a change in speed but a change in placement, a few words ending after his mouth stopped moving entirely.

He took another step forward, reaching out with one hand to push a chair out of the way, ignoring the clatter as it smashed into its neighbors, floating away in ways that it wasn’t meant to.

“I said…” He jumped onto the table with a flap of his wings, scattering the smoke for a moment, making it flair up and around himself like another set of metaphorical wings, lit up by the flickers of red and orange and _gold_ that followed him to his new perch. He leaned forwards and down until he was face to face with Allura (wide-eyed, of _course_ ) and put a finger under her chin, pushing it up. His smile never wavered, but his tail lashed wildly behind him. “ _What’s wrong?”_

He caught a flicker of shining purple out of the corner of his eye, and snapped his head around to see Shiro’s Galra arm lit up and downright _thrumming_.

_Enough._

Lance yanked back on every bit of magic he’d let seep out, every bit of Hell that had used him as a conduit to enter the world of the living. He cancelled out the half-thought illusions that had made it look like the lights had gone out, the mind magic _pressure_ that induced fear and panic, the concubus-specific glamour magic that had made his face not just pretty but _literally_ entrancing, whether someone found him attractive or not.

The smoke stayed, but stopped roiling. It settled, moving as the wind from the ventilation hit it instead of being controlled by Lance’s subconscious magic. Lance pulled in all his demonic attributes, leaving himself fully human and as utterly unthreatening as he could. He pushed the smoke away mentally, urging it towards the nearest vents and never, _ever_ taking his eyes off of Shiro. He crouched down and moved to slide off the table. Allura moved to let him, and though the smell of her was still tinged with panic, her heartrate was starting to lower.

“Shiro?” Lance said carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

Shiro took a deep breath, eyes focusing again. “I’m… I’m at the Castle.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, relaxing. “Are you okay?”

Shiro looked down slowly at his arm, and then deactivated it, shaking his head rapidly, as though to clear it. “I’m… I’m close enough to fine that you don’t need to worry.”

Well, that was the best Lance was going to get, in terms of honesty. At least Shiro wasn’t _totally_ brushing off concerns.

“Anyone else?” Lance asked, turning around the room. “Seriously, anyone else get hit by that like Shiro did?”

His eyes landed on Keith, who was frowning at the floor.

“What’s wrong, mullet?”

“Lance?” Keith said, raising his head.

“Yeeeeeeeeah?”

“Lance, that was really hot,” Keith said as plainly as a person could say anything.

Lance, personally, just stared at him for a long moment, and then started laughing. He bent over at the waist, clutching at his stomach and trying not to overbalance.

“Seriously, Keith?” Shiro asked, sounding very tired, but amused instead of guilty.

“A man’s got his kinks,” Keith said, shrugging.

“Why am I _friends_ with you?” Lance giggled.

“Well… we share a brain sometimes while piloting giant robot lions, and you trusted me with one of your biggest secrets just to make me feel better once.” Keith tilted his head, looking at the ceiling. “Also, the reciprocal blowjobs are nice.”

“Ah, yes,” Lance deadpanned, trying to keep the grin off of his face. “Can’t forget the sex.”

The door swung open and Hunk came in with a heated, raw-red steak steaming on a plate. “You know, I only heard the last few words right now, but I have to say… that’s not usually the subject matter that people get to after a demon does that. Why are we discussing sex?”

“Keith’s got a kink for Lance doing what he just did, apparently,” Pidge said. “Or just an overall demon kink, at this point.”

“Might just be a kink for me as a person,” Lance sighed, leaning back against the table and dramatically fanning himself as Hunk snorted and came closer. “I mean, let’s face it: who _wouldn’t?”_

“Most of the room, Lance,” Pidge reminded him. “Despite your extensive sexual history, you’ve only gotten that far with two people in the room.”

“Okay, I think it’s time to end that conversation,” Shiro cut them off. “I think we’ve addressed everything that needs to be addressed about Lance being a concubus, right?”

“You probably haven’t addressed that that was only halfway to full demon mode,” Hunk said, before Lance could push them all into the right conversational direction.

“Hunk!”

Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then sighed it out. “Clarification?”

“I need a fire that’s at least building-sized to do the actually dangerous part without passing out,” Lance said. “We do not have that fire, and I don’t feel like passing out for a demonstration, especially since I don’t have anyone to fight. Intimidating illusions and a touch of hell is all you’re getting from me today.”

“…right,” Shiro sighed. “Let’s move on to what we actually managed to accomplish on the mission.”

“I’m still going to eat my steak,” Lance told him. “And then I’ll maybe need more blood, not gonna lie.”

Hunk patted him on the shoulder. “I got you, bro.”

“Bro.”

“ _Bro.”_

Lance turned and grabbed Hunk’s hands in his own. “Bro?”

“Bro!”

“Oh my god, _stop_ ,” Pidge whined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hunk has... opinions on how much information Lance needs to share. After what happened with Lotor, he's worrying.
> 
> "Ok-vari" is a made-up word from my perspective, and is not meant to reflect any real-life words. Rather, "ok" was derived from the commonness of "-ok" and "-ak" as endings for Galra names (Prorok, Throk, Sendak, Morvok), and "vari" is... listen, I could lie and say that it comes from "Variti," the Serbian word for "to trick/fool/lie to," but I would be lying. The real reason is over in chapter 19, where you can see what my immediate mental reference for "aliens with hyphens in their names" is.
> 
> Keith has been spending too much time with Lance.
> 
> What Lance is doing is very much more bark than bite. He'd be able to do some damage with fire, but what he's doing when he pulls on his hell connection _here_ is 90% intimidation. It's a psychological ploy built off of illusions magic and magical psychic pressure with a demonic tinge. He's no more useful combat-wise than he would be normally, but he can stall and freak out his enemies for long enough for someone _else_ to do some damage.
> 
> If you're a Naruto fan, it's basically Killing Intent plus genjutsu plus smoke and a demon form.
> 
> ...it's the bropocalypse!


	24. Honeysuckle and Spanish Jasmine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith and Allura mostly just awkward at each other.  
> \---  
> Listen... we all knew this was coming. I'm not sure what you expected from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: sexual content (extensive discussions of kinks and such negotiations; still no actual sex, though), discussion of how sexuality and and openness to sex intersect, discussion of technical aspects of pregnancy, xenobiology, extensive awkwardness
> 
> As per usual, I'm much more interested in writing about healthy interpersonal communication than I am about the actual sex. Also, they're underage and that would be a bit creepy. I'll explain at the bottom why I'm writing what I _do_ write, though.

Keith was on his way back to his room after a training session when Allura stepped out of the door to her room and called his name.

He paused and turned. “Yeah?”

“Could I speak with you? In private?” Allura gestured towards the interior of her room. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, but the way she was biting her lip meant she was probably just nervous.

“Okay?” Keith shrugged and headed in. Allura closed the door behind him, and then walked over to her bed and sat down. After a moment, she gestured for him take a seat. Then she looked down at her hands and fiddled for a bit. Keith waited.

“You mentioned something before,” she finally said, “About Lance hoping for a night involving all three of us.”

“He was mostly joking, but yeah.” Keith tilted his head as he looked at Allura. “I mean, he’s talked about how much he likes some aspects of threesomes when we’ve talked about kinks before, but he hasn’t really brought up the three of _us_. I told him I was pretty sure I was too gay for it the first time he asked, and you’re… really kind of shy about sex stuff most of the time, so we both kind of assumed you wouldn’t be okay with it either.”

Allura nodded, biting her lip.

“And the whole me being part Galra thing,” Keith added. “That’s… you know, your PTSD and me being what I am just seemed like a bad combination in bed.”

“It’s not like tha… never mind.” Allura took a deep breath. “I have been considering the idea since you mentioned that Lance had seemed interested.”

Keith blinked. “Oh. Uh… you don’t have to force yourself for someone else’s sake, you know.”

“I do know. It’s more complicated than that, to me. In any case, I can say that I feel that I would be… amenable, I think.” Allura’s eyes dropped back down to her lap. “Although I do know that you are occasionally in your Galra form when you and Lance engage in coitus, and I would prefer to avoid that, at least. I cannot say for certain how I would respond.”

“That’s fair,” Keith said. “So do you want to talk to Lance about this _now_ or… what?”

“I would actually like to know why you thought you would be opposed to the idea,” Allura admitted. “And what changed your mind. You mentioned being, ah… homosexual? The word is familiar, but Altea didn’t have much language devoted to classifying sexual attraction, and our reading of gender wasn’t identical to Earth’s.”

“I mean, yeah. I’m gay. I’ve only ever been sexually attracted to men.” Keith scratched the back of his head and considered it, resolving to have the ‘lots of cultures on Earth have different readings of gender too’ conversation for later. “A lot of gay men are kind of… I don’t want to say _disgusted_ , but not entirely happy with the idea of touching a woman sexually, for obvious reasons. It just kills the libido or whatever? Which I can understand, mostly. You’re gorgeous and all, but I have no sexual thoughts when I look at you unless it’s in regards to the threesome, and that’s only because of Lance.”

“I see,” Allura said, sounding as though she was either sincere or very much trying to be. “You can see that I am objectively attractive to people who are sexually interested in women, but are not interested yourself, and many in your situation would be very unwilling to come into sexual contact with me for that reason.”

“Basically, yeah.” Keith tried to figure out how to word the rest. “And I figured, you know, I’d be the same way? Probably kind of grossed out by the idea, honestly? But like, the actual genitalia doesn’t gross me out, which I know because one of my ex-boyfriends was trans and we got to third base before breaking up, and…” He realized something in that moment. “Okay, I don’t actually know what Altean genitalia looks like? But I’ve had a few sexual encounters with aliens by now, and at this point I don’t think you could surprise me much? I’m getting off track.”

Allura was blushing now, but didn’t avoid eye contact.

“My point is that I don’t think I’d get grossed by whatever’s under your dress, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to lose interest in Lance just because you’re there and you identify as a woman, or whatever the closest Altean equivalent is.” Keith made a face, because that was… a lot of words. A lot more words than he’d planned to say, really. “So I’m not going to initiate sexual contact, but if a threesome is in progress and I just happen to touch a girl’s breasts by accident, I’m not going to freak out.”

“That’s… good to know?” Allura stared at him for a long moment.

Keith stared back, then awkwardly reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “We can probably make this work, since Lance is interested and we’re not… opposed to each other?”

Allura stared at him for a moment and then… reached up and pulled his hand from her shoulder to her breast.

Keith stared at her face, then his hand, then back up at her face, which was steadily growing red again. He held her gaze for a few moments, looked down at his hand one more time, and then back up at her face.

“Well now this is just awkward for the both of us.”

“I panicked.”

“And put my hand on your breast.”

“Yes.”

Keith bit his lip and tried not to laugh.

“Please don’t squeeze it.”

“I wasn’t planning to, Princess.”

They stayed like that for a few more moments, during which Allura’s blush did not fade, Keith’s hand did not move, and he had steadily more trouble keeping himself from laughing.

“So… why did you put my hand on your chest?”

“You said you wouldn’t freak out and I kept imagining that you would realize you’d been mistaken in the middle of the threesome,” Allura explained.

Keith nodded slowly, lips pressed together in a somewhat vain attempt to stop himself from laughing. When he spoke, there was an audible strain in his voice. “So should I, like… take my hand back? Or do you want to feel me up too?”

Keith had a fleeting thought had been spending too much time with Lance.

(Lance would have probably said that there was no way anyone could spend too _much_ time with him.)

“Unless your anatomy is drastically different from Lance’s, I can’t imagine there’s much to touch,” she said, but gave his chest a nervous, curious look anyway.

Keith pursed his lips in a futile attempt to hide his grin because _what even was his life anymore?_ He pulled his jacket to the side a little with his free hand, seeing as his other hand was still on her chest. He kept his eyes on Allura and said, “Go ahead.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been spending too much time with Lance.”

“…I’m not going to say you’re wrong, but I am going to point out that your panic response to an awkward conversation was to put my hand on your boob,” Keith said.

She huffed and reached out to put her hand on his chest, stating, “There, now we’re even.”

Keith looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. “Are you sure _you_ haven’t been spending too much time with Lance?”

Allura looked down at her own hand and blushed again. “You may have a point.”

“…so can I take my hand back now, or—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Allura said emphatically, snatching her own hand back and turning away to face the wall again.

Keith pulled his hand back and crossed his arms, trying not to laugh again. “Can you imagine if someone walked in during that?”

“Oh, by the ancients, please don’t make me imagine that.”

“Just seeing the two of us, sitting here, groping each other’s chests and not even _sexually_ , just _staring_ and—”

“Keith!” Allura buried her face in her hands, but there was a smile on her face. “You really _have_ been spending too much time with Lance.”

Keith shrugged. “I think that might count as a good thing, this time.”

“Indeed,” Allura said, sitting up and smoothing out her skirts. “Now, if I may ask… does this mean that we are both agreeing to attempt that threesome that Lance mentioned wanting?”

“I mean, he was pretty specific about enjoying getting spitroasted in particular, but yeah. We’re, uh, in agreement.” On impulse, Keith held out a hand to Allura, who reached out and shook it with mild amusement.

“I’ve never shook hands for a deal outside an Unilu swap moon,” she admitted. “Humans are the only species I’ve met other than Unilu who shake hands as a way to signify a deal.”

Keith shrugged, and crossed his arms again. “Yeah, well. You knew what to do.”

“I did, though I have to ask… what does this ‘spitroasting’ entail?” She bit her lip. “The translation suggests that it is a cooking method involving a stick.”

“Uh…” Keith’s eyes went wide. “Well, that cooking method is what the sex position was named after?”

Allura blinked at him, very slow, and gestured for him to continue.

“I can’t believe Lance hasn’t already explained it,” Keith muttered. “Okay, it’s basically when someone gets on their hands and knees, and then they’re, well, fucked from both ends. One dick in the mouth, and one in the ass or vagina. Could also be a dildo instead of a dick, as necessary.”

Allura’s eyebrows crept up her forehead. “I see.”

Keith shrugged. “I’m not surprised to find that it’s one of his kinks, to be honest. He’s pretty keen on switching when we do dom/sub stuff, and so am I, but spirtroasting kind of fits with what he likes when he’s a sub.”

Allura made a face. “He did explain _that_. I can’t say I see the appeal.”

“You don’t have to, really. If Lance wants me to dirty talk or something, I’ll take care of it.” Keith tilted his head. “Honestly, I can’t see you being a sub. At all. _Maybe_ domming, but you’ve made it pretty clear that you’d rather not do that sort of thing at all. Bondage?”

She considered that. “…maybe.”

“Well, you have time. And Lance, who knows more about every aspect of sex than I’d really expected anyone to, and can safely walk you through just about any kink he’s also comfortable with.” Keith leaned back, then reconsidered. Allura probably didn’t want him lying down while he was still in his (very dirty, as he was often reminded) leather jacket. “I just realized, though: are Alteans penetrative? Or do you have a strap-on or something? If Lance wants it from both ends, then that’s… probably something I should ask before we go in.”

“Ah.” Allura’s eyes widened, the blush returning again. “That is a very good question.”

Keith waited.

“I… my biology is not quite that of a human’s. It’s part of why I’m of the opinion that your planet’s gender roles and Altea’s were incredibly different.” Allura looked down at her hands for a long moment. “The Altean reproductive process is a little more complicated than most species.”

“So… you have something penetrative?” Keith asked carefully.

“I have an ovipositor,” Allura confirmed.

“…I don’t know what that means,” Keith admitted.

“It means… I have something penetrative that is meant to… well, to lay eggs, essentially.” Allura ducked her head. “The Altean reproductive process is somewhat circular. The first round of love-making involves the transference of semen from one party to the other. The, ah, recipient, I suppose? In any case, my role, would be as the one who receives the semen internally, and then after several days, it becomes clear whether the insemination was successful, at which point the person in my role would use the ovipositor to deposit the now-fertilized egg into an incubation pouch in the inseminator’s body.”

Keith stared at her. “That’s… that’s an entire extra step that doesn’t really seem to serve any purpose.”

Allura shrugged. “A common sentiment, but it’s how our bodies function.”

“It just seems unnecessary…” Keith muttered, trying to wrap his head around it. “So… what happens when you have casual sex? Does nothing come out? Or…?”

“My body can rapidly make eggs when I experience arousal,” Allura said carefully. “They are not very large, especially considering the size of the average Altean, and there is no hard shell. I can expel them at any time, provided that I experience climax, but if they are not inseminated quickly enough, or if I expel them too early after insemination or into an unsuitable environment, then they will dissolve within hours.”

Keith nodded, processing that. “And Lance likes taking those up the ass?”

Allura nodded silently.

“…how big are they?” Keith asked, because at this point he really needed a better idea of what the hell was going on.

Allura held up a hand, forefinger and thumb held apart to indicate something the size of a ping pong ball.

Keith felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. Okay. Uh, how many of those do you… release?”

“Four or five when engaging in coitus for casual purposes,” Allura said, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “If engaging in the secondary round of coitus for reproductive purposes, however, only the fertilized eggs remain, which is rarely more than one or two.”

Keith nodded slowly and tried to imagine what Lance enjoyed about that. He could… sort of see it? Anal beads maybe felt similar? Or something?

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Allura said drily.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve never had a conversation like this with someone. With humans it was usually something I already had a decent idea about, and with aliens things just usually went too fast to bother beyond safety concerns.” Keith rubbed the back of his head. “I do have another question that isn’t… really connected to tonight? Just something that I realized while you were talking.”

“I’ll answer if I can,” Allura said.

“What are you going to do if you _do_ ever want kids?” Keith asked, trying to keep his voice from turning accusatory. “I mean, me existing means that some alien species are compatible, or you could do some kind of science thing to clone or in vitro or something, but… the set up sounds like you can’t really have a kid since without… like, a surrogate or something? Since as far as I know most alien species don’t have, uh, a setup like Alteans apparently do.”

Allura gave him a look, something of a smile but just a little condescending. “There are artificial incubation methods available, and I’m certain that there are still species in the universe that are compatible with Altean genetics. Galra apparently are, if Lotor is any indication, though I suspect that he may have undergone some of Haggar’s meddling prior to birth.”

“Not really something you’re willing to do,” Keith guessed.

“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Allura agreed. “I would be surprised if there wasn’t _some_ degree of genetic compatibility with humans as well, given the outward similarities and, well, you. Genetic compatibility isn’t really transitive, but it’s a good sign.”

“I’m… happy to help?” Keith tried.

Allura ruffled his hair. “Indeed.”

Keith swatted her hand away. “Okay, enough of that.”

“You seemed to enjoy it plenty last week,” Allura reminded him with a smile.

Keith huffed, arms crossed. “That was different.”

“If you say so,” Allura said. “In any case, I feel that we’ve… addressed everything?”

“I mean… first time around we’re probably avoiding the super kinky shit. We both know Lance’s boundaries, and he knows ours, and we’ve more or less agreed to just avoid touching each other.” Keith frowned. “Do you, uh, have a preference? For tonight, or whenever we do this thing?”

“No, but I do believe Lance does,” Allura said. “He hasn’t said as much, but I believe he much prefers… well, anal, rather than oral, when we include this part of my anatomy.”

“Really? He’s usually pretty open to both with me,” Keith said.

“My ovipositor is a fairly different organ than the human phallus, despite the similarity in uses,” Allura said flatly. “While I’m not going to show it to you for minimal reason—”

Keith gave Allura’s chest a pointed look, as though to remind her that she’d done something fairly similar a few minutes ago for a similar reason. She continued on as though she hadn’t heard him.

“—I will say that Lance was… not incorrect in describing it as a tentacle,” Allura said, prim and delicate and definitely faking her calm.

Keith did his best to just… not imagine that.

“Right, so the most likely position is going to be me at his head and you at his ass. I might end up doing some stuff about his praise kink and some other gentle dom stuff that he likes, but you don’t have to join in.” Keith summarized. He got to his feet. “Good talking to you.”

Lacking any other ideas, he held out a hand and waited for Allura to shake it again. Then he turned and left, thanking every god he didn’t believe in that one of the most uncomfortable but necessary conversations of his life was over.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance rolled his head around, trying to work the kinks out of his neck. He’d accidentally fallen asleep after another dance session with Pidge, trying to go over the salsa again.

(“Why am I even _here?”_ Pidge complained.)

(“Hell if I know,” Lance said cheerily. “The sessions from the bet ended a while ago, short shit. Maybe you actually _like_ hanging out with me and learning how to dance?”)

(“I prefer the magic lessons,” she sniffed.)

He wasn’t paying much attention to where he was going, just ambling towards his room to take a shower and change since there wasn’t a team dinner tonight, so it was really no surprise that he didn’t notice Allura until he literally bumped into her.

“Oh! Princess, hey, I didn’t notice you there.” Lance stepped back and looked her up and down. “You okay?”

“Perfectly fine, thank you.” She licked her lips, looking a little nervous. “I was hoping that you might join me in my room tonight?”

O…kay? Sure, Allura was usually kind of hesitant about actually _talking_ about sexual stuff, but she was normally capable of at least asking for a night together without getting weird about it. Why was she so nervous? “I need to grab a shower first, but I can come by as soon as I’m done.”

Allura nodded sharply. “Very well. Also… please be sure to, ah, clean out?”

Lance’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t hide his grin. “Okay, Princess. Looks like we’ll be having fun tonight.”

He didn’t drop his grin as he headed back for his room, hands shoved into his pockets.

Lance’s shower was long and warm, partly to make sure he was ready for whatever Allura had planned, and he took a minute to glance over his skincare products before deciding what to do tonight. Most of it would take too long, and be a little useless in the face of his impending activities, but a face wash and a little moisturizer wouldn’t take too much time. That finished, he turned and headed for Allura’s room without changing out of his bathrobe, wondering if she had anything special planned, given how she’d acted.

He knocked on her door and waited for it to slide open. “It’s me!”

After a moment, the door did in fact open up for him, but Allura wasn’t the one waiting for him on the other side.

“Keith?” Lance barely had time to ask before he was being pulled forward into a searing kiss, which, okay, he wasn’t _complaining_ , but also… this was Allura’s room. This was not a place that anyone expected to find Keith in.

Lance pulled away after a moment, staring at Keith. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi,” Keith said, and then pulled Lance into another kiss, one hand fisting in his hair while the other snuck down towards his ass.

Something very warm and suspiciously Princess-shaped pressed against Lance’s back. Hands snuck around his waist and under his bathrobe as lips kissed their way from the back of his neck to just under his jaw.

Lance managed to back out of the kiss after a moment, and he breathed heavily as the pieces slotted together. “You two…”

“We talked,” Keith said.

“No kidding,” Lance laughed.

“We had a discussion earlier regarding boundaries and whether or not the other was amenable to a three-way tryst,” Allura said as she pulled away from his neck and let her chin rest on his shoulder. “While neither of us would seek each other out alone, we are not opposed to it if you are in the middle.”

“You’re _seriously_ both okay with a threesome?” Lance asked, looking carefully at Keith’s face, and then Allura’s, like they’d make it obvious if one of them wasn’t.

“If you’re here, then sure,” Keith said, the hand on Lance’s ass pulling him closer. “Besides, you’ve made things pretty good for us. I kinda want to return the favor, and you _did_ say you like being spitroasted.”

“I…” Lance stared at Keith for a bit. “Oh. Okay. I thought you said you were too gay for something with Allura, though?”

“I’m not going to sleep with her alone,” Keith said. “But if you’re here, then I’m game. I’m not going to freak out if I accidentally touch a boob, we checked.”

“ _Keith!”_ Allura sputtered behind Lance, and Keith grinned.

“Besides,” Keith said, with clearly faked nonchalance. “It’s not straight if it’s in a three-way, right?”

Lance couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. After he calmed down, he leaned back against Allura, letting her warmth leach into him. “So… just the three of us like that?”

“Just like that,” Allura confirmed, apparently planning to pretend like Keith’s offhand comment about them apparently groping each other hadn’t happened. She pulled away to start pressing kisses along the side of his neck again. “Shall we move to the bed?”

“Boundaries?” Lance asked, even as Keith moved to start doing exactly what Allura had, on the other side. His breath hitched as Allura’s hands moved to untie the belt of the robe.

“You know ours, and we know yours. And we already talked about the two of us,” Keith said.

“Kinks?” Lance asked, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back as he accepted that his friends had already mostly figured out what they were going to do. He was more than okay with that.

“This ‘spitroasting’ is enough, is it not?” Allura asked, moving away for a second to pull his bathrobe off.

Given that the other two were still entirely clothed save for Keith’s jacket, as far as Lance could tell, this left him feeling distinctly exposed. It was… definitely hot.

“I could do some of the gentle domming stuff you like,” Keith offered, pulling back to look Lance in the face. “A bit of manhandling, your praise kink—”

“You don’t have to _call_ it that,” Lance said with a pout.

“Hair-pulling, biting without breaking the skin…” Keith continued, then shrugged. “Or I could dirty talk instead of the praise kink.”

“…praise kink,” Lance said after a moment, well aware of how he blushed under Keith’s smile.

“Safe word?” Keith prompted. They’d had plenty of practice at this kind of short-form kink negotiation by now, even if Allura hadn’t. Lance had given her a rundown on the terminology at one point while explaining certain elements of human sexuality, though, so he was sure she knew what they were talking about, especially since most of the kink names were pretty self-explanatory.

“Probably won’t need it, but… Westerburg. Three grunts if I can’t talk,” Lance said. “You guys sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” Keith said, then leaned forward to kiss Lance again. As soon as he pulled away, though, he leaned down and swept up Lance in his arms. He carried him towards the bed, Allura right behind them, already pulling off her cape and going for the zipper of her dress. “Now let us take care of you, lovely.”

_Oh dear._

“And if you don’t mind,” Keith added, with a grin that did funny things to Lance’s stomach. “Demon form, please. Now… on your knees.”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance lay on his stomach, his mind a haze of pleasure and contentment. He had his head pillowed on his arms, facing Allura though his eyes were closed, and his right wing curled around her like a blanket. She pressed up against him, resting her head against his shoulder. There were soft noises coming from Allura’s bathroom as Keith got rid of the towels he’d used to wipe the three of them down after they’d finished. Lance lifted his head and turned it towards the door as the noises ended and let his eyes drift open to blearily watch Keith come out of the bathroom and head back for the bed.

“I’m back,” he said, and slipped under Lance’s wing. He mimicked Allura, pressing up against Lance and swinging one leg over his to get even closer.

“No kiss?” Lance asked, his voice deeper and scratchier than usual.

Keith snorted, but leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lance’s. He pulled back with a soft smile.

“Where’s mine?” Allura asked, sounding tired but as playful as she could be expected to.

“Sorry,” Lance said, and turned to give Allura access to his mouth.

“Might wanna ditch the horns,” Keith said, and Lance felt a hand come up to card through his hair. “Don’t wanna rip the pillows tonight.”

“Or accidentally stab one of you in the eye,” Lance said, but closed his eyes and let his demon form recede. He shivered as he did, and was thankful to feel Keith sit up and grab the comforter off the floor and pull it over the three of them. Lance levered himself up and turned over onto his back, and was glad to find that Keith and Allura both cuddled even closer when he lay back down, letting him slip his arms under their necks and around to rest on their heads.

He felt even more tired like this, but not quite tired enough to fall asleep yet. The energy he’d absorbed from the sexual activity wouldn’t process immediately, after all. He used both hands to play with his friends’ hair, smiling as they relaxed a little further.

“Thanks,” he said. “For doing this for me.”

“It was fun,” Keith said, shrugging and pressing a kiss to Lance’s shoulder. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah?” Lance asked, feeling his smile widen.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Allura agreed.

 “You guys are the best,” Lance said, humming a little. “Except for Hunk, but nobody can beat Hunk.”

“That’s understandable,” Allura said.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Keith nodded, then paused and pressed his nose into Lance’s neck, nuzzling a little in a way that Lance was tempted to blame on his Galra side. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m good.” Lance arched his back for a moment, relaxing after a few cracking noises, and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve told you before, what we’re doing on the kink front is really low on the scale of BDSM stuff, and I’m resilient. I’m not at risk of sub drop.”

“I still feel like I need to ask,” Keith muttered. “I didn’t pull your hair too hard or anything?”

“Mm, no.” Lance considered it for a moment, then sighed. “Maybe be more careful with my tail next time, though.”

“Will do,” Keith said with a nod. “Anything else?”

“Thanks for going ahead with my suggestion to use my horns like handlebars during blowjobs.” Lance sent him a grin. “Definitely kinky.”

“Not really my thing, but you definitely get a kick out of it, so I’m down to do it again once in a while,” Keith said. “The rest was good, though?”

“More than good,” Lance said with a nod.

“I did notice,” Keith said with a grin that had Lance reflecting the expression without conscious thought, “How much you liked it when Allura tried to join in on the praise kink.”

“Don’t,” Allura said.

“Definitely heard a groan when she said,” and here Keith put on an incredibly bad British accent in imitation of Allura, “ _You’re doing so_ well _, darling_.”

Allura pulled a pillow out from under her head and whacked Keith with it. “Stop.”

“I wouldn’t say no to more of that,” Lance said, turning to face Allura and bouncing his eyebrows a little. “It’s pretty vanilla as far as kinks go. We can ease you in slow, if you’re interested.”

“We?” Keith questioned.

“Mostly me, but there’s some things that are probably better observed from the outside, especially since I can’t really imagine her subbing,” Lance said.

“Fair enough,” Keith sighed. His fingers traced patterns on Lance’s chest, but his eyes were focused on Allura’s. “You, uh, okay with that, Princess?”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to observe,” she said. “And I don’t imagine it would be difficult for me to, ah, dom?”

“Don’t force yourself,” Lance muttered, hugging her closer. After a moment, he pulled Keith in too. “Seriously, though, thank you for this.”

“No problem, hotshot,” Keith laughed. “Now go to sleep. We’ll still be here in the morning.”

o.o.o.o.o

Pidge took one look at them the next morning and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Language.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge always figures it out immediately.
> 
> I'm a bit iffy on some of this chapter, but I'm glad to finally have it down.
> 
> I'm not comfortable with writing smut here. I'm not going to deny the fact that some teenagers have sex, because that would be ridiculous. I may not have been one of those teenagers, but I know some of them know exactly what they're doing and are very keen on doing it. However, I am not going to _write_ that sex, because... well, teenagers. Also, I'm really aroace and only have a mindset suitable to writing smut about once in a blue moon, and even then it's only femslash.
> 
> However, I do feel that writing out healthy communication between the involved parties is important, up to and including things like kink negotiation. No, I'm not going to write out what it is that they're doing in detail, but I am going to address it in the vaguest ways because... well, they do need to address it if I want to consider what they're doing healthy, you know? Talk it out before you do it and all.
> 
> If Allura wants to have kids, she will need an artificial incubator, or the help of a species with a compatible pouch/womb. A human with a uterus _could_ feasibly act as a surrogate, but the baby would come out in a sac. There are other details that I didn't get around to addressing that might come up later, since the way Allura describes things leaves a few holes.
> 
> The only things I wanted to include that I couldn't fit in:  
> 1\. Coran is trans by Altean standards.  
> 2\. What those Altean eggs actually feel like.  
> 3\. The ovipositor is royal purple with pink streaks the color of Allura's facial markings. It is indeed something of a stubby tentacle, maybe a foot or so long, but retractable.
> 
> (I'll admit that my favorite part to write was "Well now this is just awkward for the both of us." Keep it classy, Keith.)  
> (Is the safe word supposed to be a Heathers reference? Yes. Shut up.)
> 
> Healthy FWB threesomes are clearly the solution to everything ever.


	25. Moss and Galirum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we check in with the families back on Earth again.

“You lied.”

“We did.”

“Why?”

Iverson looked down at his glass of whiskey for a long moment, focusing on the movement of the ice, and then sighed.

“We had minimal information on what occurred. The craft did land safely, and we knew that much. However, all our local unmanned ships, the ones that have been monitoring Pluto, Kerberos, and the other satellites for years now, were destroyed shortly before the Orpheus stopped broadcasting a signal back to Earth,” Iverson said, and finally looked up at Colleen Holt. “All information pointed towards the ship and crew being destroyed, and no one from Earth, that we know of, had the cause or ability to do that. The government made the decision to keep the information classified to prevent mass panic; if aliens _had_ been responsible, there was little we could do beyond arming our own military, and alerting the public when we didn’t even have evidence, just conjecture, was… a bad idea.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You couldn’t even tell us? The families?”

“It was deemed a security risk,” he said. “Particularly with the children.”

“Takashi’s grandparents and I are fully capable of handling a few secrets, Iverson. You know that as well as I do,” Colleen snapped.

“It wasn’t my choice, and all available data suggested that they were either dead or never returning. It wasn’t necessarily the choice that I would have made, but I agreed because it seemed, at the time, to be the kindest one. Better that you think them dead on arrival than cling to a small hope based solely on a _lack_ of evidence,” Iverson said. “Believe me, I hoped as much as anyone else that they’d made it out alive, but the fact that Shirogane came _back_ is nothing short of a miracle. I don’t know what the letter you received told you, but what injuries we saw before those teenagers absconded with him indicated that he was lucky to be alive, let alone mostly functional.”

Colleen took a deep breath, and then let it out very, very slowly. Her shoulders relaxed, if barely, and she shook her head. “Damn you, Iverson.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that’s already happened,” he laughed humorlessly. “Possibly literally, if the Álvarez family is all they appear to be.”

“She mentioned that you were supposed to have more magical wards around the building,” Colleen said. There was no need to say who ‘she’ was, given the context. “Any headway on that?”

Iverson made a face. “Let’s just say that it’s complicated.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Mrs. Shirogane, then?”

Minako looked up from her purse as the door opened, only to see the face of an unassuming middle-aged woman.

“Call me Minako,” she said, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand. Her other drifted down to rest on her great-granddaughter’s shoulder. “This is Emiko.”

Emiko took a step back and to the side, somewhat hiding behind Minako. “Hi.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you!” The woman said to Emiko, and then looked back up at Minako. “I’m Elvira Álvarez. Come in, please!”

She guided them through the large house, and brought them to a brightly lit, cheery yellow kitchen in the back. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Minako said, taking a seat when Elvira gestured to the table. “Emiko, sit down.”

“Okay,” Emiko said, taking a seat and swinging her feet back and forth under the chair. Her eyes flickered around the room, already trying to take in as many details as she could.

“I’m glad you decided to take Marisol up on her offer,” Elvira chatted as she bustled about the room. “God only knows how awful it must be to have so little idea of how those boys are doing. It was hard enough for us, and we at least knew Lance and Hunk were alive.”

“How, if I might ask?” Minako kept her tone even.

Elvira flashed her a smile. “Oh, there’s plenty of possibilities in the magical community. Something made scrying impossible, unfortunately, but we know more than a few people with their own skills at divination. Couldn’t get many details, of course, but we did know they were alive.”

Minako stifled her immediate dismissal of the idea of magic, knowing full well that there was more to the world than she’d thought. A girl had sprouted wings in front of her, after all. There wasn’t much to be denied about that.

A door slammed somewhere distantly, and little feet pattered on their way to the kitchen.

 _“_ _¡Mamá!_ _¡Mamá!”_ Two children rushed in, talking over one another in a way that would have made it hard for Minako to understand what was being said even if she _had_ known Spanish. _“_ _¡El camión de helado está en la calle!_ _¡Por favor podemos haber un poco dólares por el—”_

 _“¡Cálmese!”_ Elvira laughed, ruffling their hair. “We have guests, _diablitos_. Say hello first.”

As one, the children turned to look at Shirogane women.

Minako doubted very much that they were twins, but the way they acted indicated that the close age had left them joined at the hip nonetheless.

“Hey,” the girl said. “I’m Diana.”

“I’m Teodoro, but you can call me Teo,” the boy offered. “I’m seven, she’s five. What about you?”

“…my name is Emiko. I’m turning nine next month.” She tilted her head, watching them curiously. “Are you not human like Miss Marisol?”

“We’re not _full_ demons like Mari and Mamá,” Teo explained.

“But half-human still means half-demon!” Diana chirped. The two jumped simultaneously and posed, wings and tails and horns snapping into existence as they landed. “Ta-da!”

“No flying indoors,” Elvira said, apparently used to them doing just that fairly regularly. “I’ll give you money for the ice cream truck, but take Emiko with you, okay? Make friends.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Emiko said immediately.

“They have flavored ice stuff,” Teo promised. “Like, uh, popsicles!”

“We can play fútbol afterwards!” Diana said, eyes lighting up. “Lance said that your dad mentioned you like sports, right?”

“I like softball more,” Emiko admitted. “And… do you mean American football or soccer?”

“Soccer,” Diana and Teo said at the same time.

“I can do that,” she said, nodding. With a glance at Minako for permission, she slid off her chair and followed the Álvarez kids out of the room.

“Is she dealing with it alright?” Elvira asked, coming over to the table with a mug of hot coffee and a glass full of something dark and red.

“She’s accustomed to Takashi taking long trips for work. The chance for real-time video conversation is actually more than we’ve usually gotten,” Minako said, accepting the mug with a grateful nod. After a moment, she continued. “He’s been through a lot, clearly, but you should see the way their faces light up when that device gathers enough energy for another call. Emiko asked about the scar and the hair, of course, and he’s told me a few things in the letters that would be unsuitable for her ears, but overall it’s… been a relief. She’s been so much happier since those letters came. Almost two years since he’s been home, and this… it’s a miracle, honestly. With Keith as well, it’s hard to believe sometimes.”

Elvira smiled and put a hand on Minako’s. “I know how you feel.”

Minako nodded slowly. “You don’t worry about Lance?”

“Oh, I worry plenty,” Elvira laughed. “But that boy takes after his sister more than anyone. Lance has always had a knack for getting into trouble of the strangest kinds, but he tends to get out alright in the end. He’s mentioned some… _very_ close calls, and I can’t help but feel like I’m going to try to keep him in the house for a month when all this is over, but I have a feeling that he’ll be fine in the long run.”

“Really,” Minako said.

Elvira’s smile fell. “I have to, Minako. My teenage son is fighting a war in space that has been going on for over ten thousand years. He isn’t even old enough to _vote_ yet. I _have_ to believe that he’s going to be okay, because I don’t know how I’ll cope if I don’t.”

Elvira’s fingers tapped along the table for a moment. “My family is very old. I’m the oldest of them, of course, seeing as I’m less than a decade from two hundred, but the fact is that I haven’t lost someone I genuinely care for since the middle of the twentieth century. It’s 2074, Minako, and I was already an adult before the nineteenth century ended. I was already middle-aged when I was turned in the middle of World War One. I am _very_ old, and as many as I’ve seen pass me by, losing Lance was the first time in a long time that I’d been confronted with the fact that my human and hybrid family members are so much harder to keep alive.”

Minako pursed her lips. “As someone who lost her son and daughter-in-law to a war just over two decades ago, and never had even illusions of immortality, let alone a tangible form of it, I can’t quite say I relate.”

“Ha,” Elvira barked out a laugh, and then shook her head. “I need to trust them to take care of themselves for now.”

“I suppose it’s the best we can hope for, yes.” Minako acknowledged. “And if I might comment… wine?”

Elvira’s gaze dropped to her glass, and then came up again to grin at Minako. “AB negative, actually.”

“…ah,” she said, not quite sure what else to say. “I hadn’t expected such… casualness, I suppose.”

“People rarely do, but in a family filled with concubi, you get used to it. My spouses certainly did, and they’re still entirely human.” Elvira picked up the glass and swirled it around a little. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to keep the children in the dark about the other half of our diet, though.”

“Oh?”

“We make a point of it to avoid explaining until they’ve at least hit the double digits,” Elvira elaborated. “The full-blooded ones don’t need to feed off of sex until puberty, and even that can be avoided if a person is very careful. Procubi are rare, but they do exist. Children especially feed off of physical contact of other sorts; it’s entirely possible for us to feed and kill by cuddling. In any case, it’s hard to explain to a five-year-old why you’re telling their Tío Ricardo that it’s inappropriate to mention that he had a ‘late dinner’ with that kind of grin at the breakfast table.”

Minako couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “I can imagine the difficulty.”

“They tend to figure it out in part before we tell them. It’s a bit like Santa Claus, really. Eventually they get curious about what the difference between concubi and vampires are, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of materials to look up, no matter how many ways we try to put parental controls on the internet.” Elvira shrugged. “We do our best and then ensure that they know the importance of safety and consent. A concubus gets a much more… holistic, I suppose, version of ‘The Talk’ than most species bother with, at ten or eleven. We dissuade them from engaging in sexual activities until at least fifteen, but it’s important that they know what’s going on with their bodies before they get hit with false information, or try something without having researched first.”

“And you don’t mind that your children engage in those kinds of activities so young?” Minako asked.

“They’re almost certainly going to do it eventually. My job is to make sure they don’t try too young, and that they’re as safe as possible when they do.” Elvira drained what was left of the blood in her glass. “It’s healthy for them, once they’re at that age. Damn near mandatory, in the case of the full-blooded ones. We tell them what to watch out for, how to stay safe, and why it’s a good idea to wait until they’re at least fifteen. I can’t protect them forever, but I _can_ make sure that they know how to protect themselves, in all the ways they need to.”

“I think I can understand that,” Minako said. “I admit I may not have been as insistent on the safety aspect when explaining things to Takashi as I should have been.”

“Yeah, well, everyone makes mistakes.” Elvira shrugged. “Things appear to have worked out well enough, from what I can tell.”

“He was lucky, yes.”

There was a silence, a lull in the conversation, and then Minako asked, “So how did you and your spouses meet?”

Elvira grinned. “Funnily enough, it was a conference in Havana…”

o.o.o.o.o

“Ester!” Arihi said, wiping her hands off on a towel and heading towards the front door of the small restaurant. “Javier! I didn’t know you were coming by today!”

“Hey, Arihi,” Ester said, hugging the taller woman with a grin. “We weren’t planning on it, but Marisol came home with some news this morning, and we’ve been checking in with the involved families. You’re getting an in-person visit because you’re literally three blocks away.”

“I feel so special,” Arihi laughed. “Elei is in the back. Come with me. We don’t open for an hour anyway.”

Arihi was taller than Ester, but Elei was taller still. She was, nonetheless, standing on a chair in an attempt to reach a box that had been left on the highest shelf in the kitchen, one that really would have been safer approached using a ladder that made it up those few extra inches.

“Honey, do you need some help?” Arihi asked.

“No, I got it,” Elei said with a small huff, and wobbled a little as she finally managed to get the bottle of whatever it was down.

“Ooooh, chili powder?” Ester asked, leaning forward and taking a closer look. “Is that the extra-strong stuff?”

“Yep,” Elei said, grunting a little as she dropped to the ground. She swung the chair around to rest it against the wall, and dropped the little plastic bottle on the counter. “We’re doing an event soon, so we’re going to be making a lot of extra-spicy food for it. Lots of ‘free if you can finish it without water’ challenges.”

“Can I try?” Javier asked.

“You can get free food when we invite you over to dinner, old man,” Arihi sniffed. “No need to discourage our customers.”

“I don’t know,” Ester said. “If they see him finishing it that easily, they’ll probably think they have a better chance.”

“Feel free,” Elei laughed. “Other than that, though, what can we do for you? What’s this all about?”

“Marisol came by this morning with news. She and Nina are almost ready to try to do the teleport to where the boys are,” Ester explained.

“So while we can’t send along much, this is a good chance to send something if you have any ideas,” Javier finished. “You’ve got longer than last time, at least. They’re going to give it a shot tomorrow. The Shirogane came by for a visit yesterday, and Minako brought along a few things from Colleen and Iverson, so that was some lucky timing.”

“They’re going to be careful, right?” Arihi asked.

“Safeguards in case they accidentally teleport themselves to the middle of space and whatnot?” Elei clarified.

“Nina’s been dealing with Sol’s hijinks for years,” Ester sighed. “I can’t imagine she isn’t prepared for something to go horribly wrong.”

“Or horribly right,” Javier added. “Can’t forget the incident with the one DnD game.”

“ _Por favor_ , don’t remind me,” Ester groaned. “Do you remember my dad’s face?”

“I remember your mother’s praying,” Javier said with an easy grin. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone trying that hard to fight down the Catholic panic in the face of magic gone wrong in a while.”

“Devoutness has nothing to do with that disaster, _amor_ ,” Ester rolled her eyes. “We were all panicking, given the circumstances.”

“You’d think she would have found a better time than during a family reunion,” Elei laughed.

“Well, we got lucky,” Javier shrugged. “Minimal property damage and the non-magicals from our sides of the family weren’t freaking out as much as they could have.”

“Goodness only knows how poorly your mother could have reacted,” Arihi tutted.

“She’s _religious,_ not _bigoted_ ,” Ester griped. “There’s a difference! You _know_ how accepting she and my dad have been of, well, just about everything.”

“Being trans, engaging in polygamy, having children with a literal demon,” Javier ticked off on his fingers. “Not partaking in Lent, I guess?”

“Hush, you,” Ester poked him in the shoulder. “My mother was ten times easier to convince regarding the marriage than your aunt was.”

 Javier made a face. “That’s… fair.”

“Wasn’t she more bothered by the polygamy than the literal demon part?” Elei asked, leaning against the counter.

“We didn’t _tell_ her about the literal demon part,” Javier grumbled.

“Because the polygamy was a hard enough sell in the first place, especially since we were both taking Elvira’s surname,” Ester added. “So no more talking about _mi madre_ like that, _azúcar_ _._ ”

“Fine, fine,” Javier laughed, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple. “I’ll stop teasing.”

“Thank you,” Ester said primly, then giggled as Javier poked at her ribs. “Stop that!”

“The very picture of a loving marriage,” Elei drawled, laughing when Ester pouted at her. “Woman, you are over fifty years old. Enough with the pouting.”

“Oh please, you’re hardly any younger,” Ester said.

“I’m not sitting on an offer of immortality with a step-daughter that’s older than I am, either.” Elei grinned.

“You’re awful,” Ester said.

“I know.” Elei winked, turning to rifle through a nearby cabinet. “Now get going. We’ll stop by your house with a few things tomorrow. I have a job to get back to.”

“We’ll tell Arihi the guidelines on maximum size and weight that Marisol passed to us from Nina,” Javier promised, heading for the door. “See you tomorrow!”

“I’m expecting a group dinner _tonight_ , Álvarez! We’ll potluck!”

o.o.o.o.o

“Yeah, Dio, it’s all chill. Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll work out. What, are you gonna come bail my ass out if we end up stranded in space or something?” Marisol had the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear as she pushed the door to Nina’s shop open with her back, pulling a set of suitcases and bags in behind her. “Very funny, asshole. Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you in… I dunno, May? Yeah, May works. Listen, you’ve been responsible for a good forty percent of weird shit in my life, buddy. Sometimes you gotta step in on the other half of that pretty little promise of yours, Dio.”

“Give me those,” Nina said, without so much as a hello, taking the suitcases and pulling them over to a scale in the corner of the room. “And finish up that conversation. I don’t care who’s on the other end.”

“…yeah, I gotta go. Wh— _of course_ I’m going to tell you whenever my life goes this belly-up. For once this weird shit isn’t directly your fault! I mean, probably. I’m assuming, here. Yeah, okay, Nina’s glaring at me. Bye!”

“You have the weirdest friendships, I swear,” Nina muttered. “I’m done weighing these. Take ‘em to the backroom. Do _not_ touch anything. I need to lock up and activate the wards before we jet.”

“Got it,” Marisol said, going over and picking up the suitcases, heading for the back room.

Nina, in fact, had more than one backroom to her shop, along with a basement and a set of stairs that led up to her living quarters. Witchcraft took _space_ , sometimes, especially for something as complex and delicate as this kind of teleportation. One of the backrooms was storage, filled with all the herbs, stones, animal bones, textbooks, and various other ingredients and references she needed in order to do her job properly. One of them was a darkroom, much like those used in photography, with wards set up to keep all light out save whichever kind Nina ‘programmed’ in, depending on what the spell would need; more than a few spells reacted violently if exposed to light before being finished. One of them was just a workroom, like the part of the shop that people could access directly but bigger, filled with tables and a few stools, every surface covered with some project or other.

The last room was usually empty, reserved for only the biggest, most complex projects, the ones that had Nina ordering in plywood to lay over the flooring because she couldn’t afford to have projects quite that big permanently etched into her hardwood.

Marisol stopped just outside the door, peeking in through the open doorway and sucking in a breath at the massively complex array that was painted down on the floor. There were parts that, on second look, must have been magically magnified and shrunk in order to fit such small, delicate lines in. Marisol put the bags down and took a few steps closer, trying to get a better look at the design.

“Don’t _touch_ that!”

Marisol jerked back, turning to look at Nina. “I wasn’t going to!”

Her eyes landed on the bag in Nina’s hands. “Hey, are those the Balmera thi—”

“No touching!” Nina snapped, yanking the softened canvas bag out of Marisol’s reach. “Just… stand there and don’t touch anything.”

“Why, is it still wet?” Marisol asked, stepping closer to the door to let Nina pass.

“No, but it’s delicate and your very existence makes things go screwy, Sol.”

Marisol made a face. “C’mon, I’m not that bad.”

“You are the reason I have grey hair, Sol,” Nina grumbled.

“Um, excuse you, bitch, I’m the reason your hair is the _only_ sign of your age,” Marisol scoffed. “Some best friend _you_ are.”

“I made this for you at a reduced rate, didn’t I?” Nina gestured at the floor. “Now seriously, stop fooling around. Do _exactly_ what I tell you, and don’t scratch _anything_. This thing took literal weeks and is genuinely one of the most complex things I’ve ever done, and the _only_ reason it’s going to work is that I’ve got those Balmera crystals. I’ve got the blood sample from yesterday so we can zone in on the tracker I sent, but it’s still going to be _very fucking delicate._ ”

“I got it, I got it,” Marisol sighed. Then she grinned. “So, how do you want me?”

“Hilarious,” Nina snorted. “Carry the baggage and yourself over to this large circle. Make sure nothing pokes out over the edges. Do not scratch the ink. I’ll be in the other empty circle. Do _not_ move.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Marisol said, doing as asked and then watching as Nina went around the edges of the teleportation matrix. Marisol wasn’t as good as Nina was (she didn’t think _anyone_ she’d met of a comparable age was, except maybe Tía Rosa; all the people that she’d met that were better either had god-blood running through their veins or were centuries older, or both), but she could figure out the shape of the spell. She could see the parts delineating power dispersal, managing overflow, the homing matrix designed to find the tracker they’d sent back with Puck.

“Shirogane’s daughter visited my family with her great-grandmother the other day,” Marisol said, trying to make conversation. “She got along pretty well with the brats.”

“What, you’re thinking you’d want a kid of your own?” Nina asked, still busy making sure the Balmera crystals were perfectly placed.

“ _God no_ , I’m not ready for that.” Marisol made a face. “I mean, I’ve thought about it a few times? I’m fifty-six; I’m kinda well into the age I’d be thinking about it, right?”

“Mm-hm,” Nina prompted.

“But like… Shirogane had a kid when he was _seventeen_ , and he handled it okay? I don’t know. This is weird. Like, I have _some_ idea of how I’d go about it? Maybe like Mamá did for me? Just find a random other concubus and get pregnant, instead of starting a relationship. Or adoption, that’s always an option.” Marisol considered it. “My bio-dad was a dick.”

“I know, Sol. You’ve complained about him before.”

“He wasn’t abusive, just an asshole,” Marisol mused. “Like, I wouldn’t wish death upon him or anything, but I’m glad he wasn’t involved in my life other than a few chance meetings.”

“I _know_ , Sol.”

“So adoption would be cool. I’d probably be raising a human kid if I did that, though. And I’d probably want to wait for Diana and Teo to get a bit older first.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously, though, Shirogane’s technically less than half my age, and he’s already got a daughter the age of my little siblings, and despite everything he’s handling it like a champ? Like. Wow. Can I please have my shit that together?”

“He’s fighting a war in space. Against aliens. With a bunch of _teenagers_ as his main fighting force,” Nina reminded her. “Probably has extreme PTSD, hasn’t seen his daughter in two years, flies a giant robot lion. That is not having your shit together. That is clinging to your shit and trying to keep it from catching fire again because the universe won’t let you catch a break.”

“…why you gotta do me like this?”

“I’m your best friend. It’s my job.” Nina stood up from the final crystal and dusted off her skirt. There wasn’t any dust visible on the long green fabric anyway, but she seemed to enjoy making it sway nonetheless. “Okay, you see that small, empty circle right in front of you? Maybe six inches across?”

“Yeah.”

Nina headed for the empty circle across from Marisol, moving to stand in it so that she and Marisol were directly facing one another. There were two small empty circles just at the edges, like a disproportionate Mickey Mouse head, and she crouched to put one hand in each.

“Put your hand in the circle. Do not touch the edges. Push magic into it, and focus on Lance and the tracking device.”

Marisol closed her eyes and did just that.

“The focus isn’t entirely necessary, but every little bit helps. The magic is going to tie this matrix in to your blood, so that we can zero in on the tracking device.” Nina’s voice was calm and even, and Marisol felt her magic join Marisol’s own, twining around it and pulling it out to spread across the teleportation matrix.

“Alright,” Nina breathed, and Marisol knew that if she looked, Nina’s eyes would be glowing white, pupil and iris hidden behind the bright shine.

“Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I chose Elvira's name, I was just looking for something old-fashioned (circa 1900) and culturally accurate. I didn't know about the reference until my beta pointed it out, so let's all just... pretend I didn't make it.
> 
> Once again, I am not a native speaker of Spanish. If you see any mistakes, please tell me how to fix them. I did my best, but... well. It's been four years.  
> On that note, please tell me if I write something culturally insensitive, to _any_ of the cultures I'm writing here. I base what I can on my own experiences as an immigrant kid from a family that insists on staying connected to the home culture, but that doesn't mean I can catch everything.  
> ...the "diablitos" thing is still one of my favorite instances of wordplay in this fic. It amuses me more than the title does.
> 
> Procubi are basically asexual concubi, but it's... hard to keep up as a lifestyle for full-blooded concubi. Very hard to stay healthy, at any rate. Kind of like trying to be vegan while having coeliac disease and being allergic to all of the major allergens and most beans and legumes or something. Like, it's _technically_ feasible, but hard as fuck and kind of expensive to keep up with because you need to take vitamins to cover all the stuff you're missing. Procubi CAN feed off of non-sexual contact like cuddling, but it's at a much lower rate and doesn't really do as much as it should. There's also the fact that the body adjusts to what the intake is: if a concubus DOES have sex, then it's harder to wean the body off to get back to the procubus lifestyle without damage.  
>  (Basically, I would hate being a concubus, because I'm ace and sex-repulsed, but I wanted to make sure aroace people like me were at least addressed in this fic. It's hard, but feasible.)
> 
> I PROMISE I'LL EXPLAIN HOW LANCE'S PARENTS MET SOON. I'VE HAD IT PLANNED FOR LIKE A MONTH AND A HALF.
> 
> I've once again gone with the "figure out personalities as I write and things happen" route as I wrote the other parents. Thankfully, I have a better idea of them now.  
> Yes, Ester is trans. (I was so relieved when I figured out that making one of Lance's parents trans would fix all the gross gender roles nonsense that had been cropping up when I kept them all cis and tried to go with the "both human parents have at least one child that's theirs biologically, and all the kids are hybrids" route. Writing Ester as a trans woman lets me avoid those creepy gender roles/stereotypes while still letting me do what I wanted about the kids' parentage.)  
> I have a lot more stuff going on with Lance's family, but I'll PROBABLY introduce it later instead of now. The only thing I need to address right now is that Ester's mother is the _abuela_ that Lance was talking about back in Chapter Five while talking to Allura about religion.
> 
> Shiro's life is a rolling tire fire and tbh it's really impressive he manages to hold it together as well as he does.


	26. Vervain and Bearded Crepis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion we've all been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of a stabbing (both parties are immortal and have much higher pain tolerances than humans)

“You wouldn’t feel cold if you went to bed earlier,” Lance said, careful not to get Pidge’s hair in his mouth.

“Shut up,” She grumbled. She was on his lap, her back to his chest and a computer sitting on the kitchen table in front of them. He hummed, hooking his chin over her shoulder and not bothering to try to understand what she was writing. His tail twitched behind them, and his wings made something of a wall around them, awkwardly resting on the table in a way that was uncomfortable, but not painful.

Lance squeezed the arms that he had around Pidge’s waist. “Seriously, sleep deprivation means you’ll feel cold no matter how many layers you wear.”

“I know, but I’ve got shit to do,” Pidge retorted. Something on her screen blinked red and made a beeping noise. She made a frustrated noise, slapping the table. “Shit that _isn’t working properly, fuck!”_

“Stop that,” Lance said, grabbing her hands when she fisted them into her hair, and carefully leveraging them open.

“Fuck you.”

“Ew, no.” Lance made a face. “ _Get more sleep_ , tiny thing.”

“I am not _tiny_ ,” Pidge protested. “I’m _young_. I still have time to grow! You’re just a beanpole!”

“A beanpole that’s older than you and knows that what you’re doing is only going to lead to you hurting yourself. C’mon, Pidge, you’re cold because you’re sleep-deprived, and that’s just another reason you’re having trouble with your code. Sleep on it and then come back, and maybe things will make more sense then,” Lance tried to be cajoling, even bouncing one leg in an attempt to get Pidge to realize that movement was a good thing.

She growled.

“Okay, clearly a bad idea,” Lance muttered. “I feel like I need to call in the big guns.”

“Do not.”

“Too late!” Lance pulled his wings back and away from the wall they’d made, revealing the two of them to the outside world once more. Pidge hissed at the sudden level of light, and Lance ignored her. “Shiro, Hunk, Allura, Coran! Someone help me convince Pidge that she needs sleep!”

“Why am I not included in this?” Keith asked. Lance gave him a long, silent look, after which Keith seemed to realize the actual context and shrugged. “Never mind.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Pidge insisted. “I’ll sleep later.”

“No, you won’t, because you never do,” Lance said. He hugged her tighter for a moment, garnering a surprised and somewhat annoyed squawk of protest. “You need to take care of yourself, short shit!”

“I have to agree with Lance,” Shiro said, looking over from the datapad he was reading over his own breakfast. “You should really go to bed earlier.”

Pidge shot him a dirty look. “I’m _fine_.”

“Be that as it may,” Coran said, “You should really be—”

He was cut off by a crackle of lightning.

Everyone was on their feet in seconds, weapons out if they had them.

A dozen or so yards from the end of the table, there was smoke rising from the floor, surrounding a circle filled with swooping lines and symbols that Lance recognized, if vaguely. The circle was faint at first, something that hadn’t been there at first, but glowed a grassy green that got brighter by the moment.

“Oh no,” he whispered, though his heart leaped into overdrive in excitement, rather than fear. He put away his bayard, ignoring the looks he got, and started backing away from the smoke.

 The grey smoke continued to rise, snapping with little bursts of lightning. It grew thicker and thicker, until it was nearly impossible to discern the fact that shadows had begun to move within it. The crackling lightning built to a peak, and then suddenly stopped as the lines on the floor went dark.

“Teleportation: complete,” a familiar voice said. “You are now free to move, but _if you smudge those lines, I_ will _scream, Sol_.”

“Oh _hell_ ,” Lance whispered, coming to a stop. “There’s no running from this.”

“Yeah, no shit, kiddo.” One of the shadows came barreling out of the smoke, slipping past Keith’s sword and Pidge’s bayard, and slammed into him.

Lance stumbled back two steps with an “oof.”

“You are _so_ grounded, you little shit,” Marisol said, clutching him as tightly as she could with his wings still out. “Let me hug you properly.”

He stared down at her for a long moment, and then shifted back to full human. Marisol wrapped her arms around him fully, squeezing so tight it almost hurt. “Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again, _diablito_.”

“I didn’t do it on _purpose_ ,” Lance protested, but didn’t pull away. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders instead, and clung as tightly as he could. Marisol’s wings flared out after a moment and encircled them, a wall against the world. Lance smiled, breathing in the smell of _family_ and _home_. “Missed you, Mari.”

“Hearing you’d gone missing was one of the scariest things I’ve ever experienced, especially when scrying didn’t work,” Marisol said quietly. “We got divination confirmation that you were alive eventually, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispered. “I did my best to get into contact, but I only got a violin the day I summoned the fae, and there isn’t any tech on Earth that can get faster-than-light communications, you know?”

“You could have _come home_ , Lance.”

“…no, Mari. I couldn’t have.” Lance felt his sister shuddering, and winced as he pulled her closer. He could see people shifting about through the gap in her wings, but ignored them in favor of closing his eyes and ducking his head. “A lot of people are going to die if I try to leave this war.”

“You’re _seventeen_ ,” Marisol hissed.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I got magically picked up for it,” Lance mumbled. He found it easy to ignore the pressure of Marisol’s fingers on his back. “I’m in this for the long haul. I’m not leaving people to die just because I’m a little young, or because it’s a little scary. Hell, I’m less likely to die than the rest of the team, all things considered.”

“That does _not_ make me feel better,” Marisol said, her voice cracking. Lance stiffened as he felt something wet on his shoulder. “We’ve all been worried sick, _hermanito_.”

“C’mon, I always get out alright in the end,” Lance tried to reassure her. “Bit worse for the wear, maybe, but I’m still pretty and functional! Yeah, I end up in a lot of weird shit, but I get out fine.”

“That’s _my_ curse, Lance, not yours.” Marisol laughed, wet and unsteady. “You’ve been getting hurt. You said as much in the letters.”

“There are healing pods,” Lance reassured her. “And people who know and aren’t bothered by letting me drink their blood or having sex to get better. I’m in good hands.”

“You’re in a _war_.”

“…yeah,” Lance sighed. He pressed his face into his sister’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Come _home_.”

“I can’t, Mari. You know that.” Lance squeezed tighter for a moment. “I can’t leave until it’s over.”

She shuddered again, sucking in a ragged breath, and Lance tried to stifle the pit of guilt in his stomach. He couldn’t leave, not now. The war needed him, more than Earth or his family did.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so—”

“Shut _up_ , brat,” she whispered back. “Just… just let me hug you. Let me make sure you’re here and okay and alive.”

“No complaints here,” Lance laughed, and shifted back towards demon form. He didn’t go fully, since he didn’t want his wings knocking into Marisol’s, but he pulled out enough of it to slip out his tail and entwine it with hers. “Tail hug!”

“Tail hug,” Marisol confirmed, nodding against his neck and shoulder. “…I missed you, brat.”

“Missed you too,” Lance said, hugging her as tightly as he could. She was fully succubus; she could take it.

Marisol pulled back after a moment, looking him in the eye. “Now.”

“Now?”

“Who,” Marisol said, very deliberately, “Gave you permission to get taller than me?”

Lance reviewed things for a moment, and realized that yes, he was actually a few inches taller than Marisol now. Huh. He hadn’t expected that. He’d apparently undergone a growth spurt over the past few months without realizing it.

“The Princess, probably,” he answered anyway. “She’s in charge of everything.”

Marisol wiped at her eyes and pulled her wings back, though she didn’t return to human form or let go of Lance’s shoulder. Her eyes landed on Allura, who shifted nervously. “Yeah? You two close?”

“There’s only seven people living here permanently, Mari,” Lance snorted. “We’re all close.”

“Fair enough,” Marisol sighed dramatically, then clapped her hand on Lance’s shoulder and tugged on his tail a little with her own. “Now introduce me to your friends, kid. Haven’t got all day.”

“Yes, we do,” Nina corrected, sounding incredibly bored. She was examining a Balmera crystal, ignoring the awkward tension that the room had fallen into while Marisol and Lance hugged it out. “Two or three, actually, depending on how long it takes me to get set up. Teleporting over several billion light-years is _draining as fuck_ , Sol.”

“…you’re mean, Nina.”

“Uh-huh,” Nina said, not even looking up from her crystal examinations. “Right now, I need two things: a bed to pass out on, and a fucking drink.”

“I thought you didn’t drink,” Hunk said.

“I normally don’t, because the effects are annoying, and I need to be the sober friend more often than not, but listen, kid: I just teleported using an experimental setup across _multiple galaxies_. I deserve that fucking drink.”

“I… think we might still have something in the pantry?” Keith offered, edging out of the room. “I’ll just… go get that.”

Hunk frowned. “I thought I used up the last of it for that glaze…” He shook his head as though to clear it. “Anyway! Nina, hey, it’s been a while.”

“Hunk, right?”

“You don’t know my name?”

“Cut me some slack, I’m old.” Nina grabbed his hand and shook it, and Lance grinned a little at seeing the woman again. “Besides, do you have any idea how fuzzy my head is after something like that? I’m _genuinely_ surprised it didn’t blow up in my face somehow.”

“Pfffft, your stuff always works,” Marisol said, waving a hand. “Lance, are you surprised she got us out here?”

“Kinda.”

“Traitor,” Marisol stated, and turned back to Nina. “You did good. Get some sleep.”

“Uh-huh,” Nina said, not even looking up from her examinations. “Come get these bags. Don’t smudge anything.”

“No smudging, got it,” Marisol said, walking over to the teleportation matrix and carefully lifting the bags off of it. She grabbed Lance’s wrist and pulled him over with her, and even when she picked the luggage up, she kept their tails tightly entwined. “I’ve got presents from your families, by the way.”

Lance let his wings back out and ruffled them as he saw the looks on everyone’s faces brighten, staring hungrily at the bags. He grinned and crossed his arms, leaning sideways to put his weight on Marisol as she pointed out who’d been sent which bag. He turned his head to speak quietly. “So, on a scale of empty day to what-happens-in-Athens, how’s your life been recently?”

“Well, my little brother is fighting a war in space against aliens, so I’m going to say I’ve been put in a slingshot and flung _way_ past Athens by this point,” Marisol said with deceptive lightness. “My life always has something weird going on, but buddy, for the past few months, _you_ have been the weird thing.”

“I’m the weird thing…” Lance mused. “So are you saying it’s _your_ fault I’m in space?”

Marisol made a face. “Don’t push it, kid.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Nope!” Marisol shouted. “Hey, Hunk, kiddo, what did your moms send?”

“Uh…” Hunk glanced between Marisol and Lance, who was snickering by this point, and trying to use Marisol’s head as a resting place for his chin. “Well, they sent me a bunch of spices and non-perishables that I haven’t had access to since I came to space, since I’ve been missing food from home, and some spare clothes and binders? Don’t get me wrong, we have plenty of clothes on the ship if we want them, but…”

“It’s nice to have some variety from home,” Pidge finished. She held up a dress that her mom had sent and grinned. “I have no idea if I still fit this, but I _finally have dresses again_ , you guys. And she sent all my fake boob stuff, like the weird little gel things and the push up bras!”

“Nice,” Lance said, and leaned out to give them both high-fives. “Seriously, though, Pidge? If you want dresses, just ask. Remember to call me the Tailor, and—”

“And we’ll have to deal with Tío Ricardo blaming us for ruining a set of drapes that _he_ said we could use again?” Marisol suggested brightly.

Lance groaned and buried his face in her shoulder. “Don’t remind me, please.”

“Too late. Already reminded,” Marisol said. “Seriously, though, Pidge? Right, Pidge. My bratty little brother’s good with a sewing machine. I’d have brought his along myself if it weren’t so freaking heavy.”

“You can curse, Mari,” Lance muttered. “Teo and Diana aren’t here.”

“I spend half my time surrounded by children, Lance. Let me take a moment to shift mindsets,” Marisol said, rolling her eyes. “I was serious earlier, though. Introduce me.”

“Uh… well, the guy that left to get booze for Nina was Keith. You already know Hunk and you figured out Pidge. Shiro’s the one going through the paisley suitcase. And this,” Lance said, stepping backwards towards Allura and Coran. “Is Princess Allura of Altea, along with her royal advisor, Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe.”

“I feel like I just walked into an old money club,” Marisol said, making a face. “Those are some very human middle and surnames. Are we sure Alteans never made contact?”

“I mean…” Lance trailed off, looking over at Allura with what he _knew_ was a nervous expression. “A genocide that happened ten thousand years ago makes it pretty unlikely.”

Marisol sucked in a sharp breath through barely-parted teeth as Allura closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. “Right. Sorry. Forgot about that.”

Lance patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll remember.”

“Besides, mathematically it’s only ten thousand years by _Altean_ measurements,” Pidge said, sounding almost absentminded. Lance didn’t believe the forced casualness for a moment. “It’s a little over thirteen thousand by Galactic Standard, which is based on the Galra homeworld, and a little under seven and a half thousand by Earth’s standards.”

“That…” Marisol paused. “It does change the timeline somewhat, but not in a way that makes it make sense.”

“You could ask around,” Lance suggested. “If anyone knows British history…”

“Let’s _not_ ,” Nina suggested, voice dry and forceful. “We’ve got enough trouble on our plates already; no need to bring the fucking _fae_ into it.”

“Especially for something so small,” Marisol admitted with a sigh. “I’d be better off with Denny’s, honestly.”

“…what does trashy fast food for stoners have to do with anything?” Pidge asked, looking up from the suitcase she was rifling through.

“It’s… complicated,” Marisol finally said. “And personal. Don’t worry about it.”

“At least it’s not Albany,” Nina muttered.

“Wait, what happened in Albany?” Lance asked, just a little bewildered. “Did something happen in Albany?”

“Now that’s something you _really_ don’t need to worry about,” Marisol said. There was a nervous hint to her voice, something that screamed _please don’t ask more_.

“Gaius,” Nina said flatly.

Lance blanched. “Oh god, did you get stabbed again?”

“You are fighting a _war_ , Lance, okay, I’m allowed to have casual run-ins with—”

“He _stabbed you_.”

“It was an equal knife fight!” Marisol protested, throwing her hands up in the air.

“I was there! And, like, eight years old so you’re lucky that didn’t freak me out for life! There was a lot of blood, Mari!”

“I was _fine,_ ” Marisol waved him off. “Besides, Albany didn’t involve any direct fighting. I just kicked his ass digitally a few hours later.”

“Uh… what did I just walk in on?”

Lance turned to the door and saw Keith standing there, the dark bottle in his hands seeming a little incongruous in the bright light of the room. “We’re talking about my sister’s terrible taste in bed partners.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not—”

“You slept with him _after he stabbed you!”_

“It was apology sex that helped me heal!”

“I am so fucking confused right now,” Pidge said loudly. “And an explanation would be nice. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Keith crossed the room and handed the bottle to Nina as Lance tried to figure out how to answer the implied question.

“Is this… is this French?” Nina asked, squinting at the bottle. “Where the _hell_ did you get French whiskey out in space?”

“Bar on a planet on the other side of the Milky Way,” Keith said, shrugging. “Apparently, there’s _one_ other species that can drink alcohol in any kind of quantity, so I guess they had it for them?”

“Kerrissians,” Hunk said. “Though their tolerances are lower than ours on average.”

“Okay, but why something from _Earth?”_ Nina asked. “How did it even get out there?”

“We don’t really know,” Pidge said. “But Keith apparently has the weird and mostly useless skill of being able to find booze in the weirdest situations available.”

“Uh-huh,” Nina said, the expression on her face and the tone of her voice verging on dubious. “Well, whiskey is whiskey, I guess. I’m not going to turn it down, so thanks, kid.”

“You’re welcome?” Keith shifted from one foot to the other, and then turned on his heel and headed for Shiro.

“You’re my favorite right now!” Nina called, then poured out an inch or two into the cup that Keith had brought in as well.

“Fucking _rude_ ,” Lance said, aghast. “You’ve known me my entire life, what the hell?”

“Exactly,” Nina drawled, taking a sip of the whiskey. “Though this is all liable to change if someone can show me a guest room with a bed. I’m exhausted.”

“I think we have a few clean rooms right now,” Coran said, finally speaking after having watched silently with Allura since Marisol and Nina had shown up. Lance figured that they’d wanted to give him and Marisol a chance to reunite without interruption. “They haven’t been a high priority, but we did clean out a handful for visiting allies.”

“Lead the way,” Nina said, gesturing towards the biggest visible door. “Coran, right?”

“Indeed. And you are… Nina?”

“Yep,” she said, tilting her head to the side to draw out a cracking noise from her neck. As they reached the door, she turned and fixed everyone with a glare. “Don’t you _dare_ touch the teleportation matrix. If it gets smudged, I will be pissed. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Lance said, giving her a cheery salute. As soon as she was gone, he turned back to Marisol. “So. Albany.”

“Nothing happened,” Marisol told him. “Seriously, Gaius and I aren’t really _that_ violent.”

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Keith piped up. “Or is this a family thing?”

“Gaius is a vampire that’s over sixteen hundred years old, who happens to be my sister’s rival on World of Warcraft,” Lance said, his expression and his voice as flat as a three-day-old soda. “He looks like he’s twenty, acts like a frat boy, and going by the stories, he’s been a fuckboy for longer than the term has existed.”

“The original fuckboy,” Marisol sighed. “We’re… not exactly friends?”

“They once got into an argument about something relating to the game when they ran into each other in real life, _while I was there_ , mind you,” Lance felt his own eyes widening in a show of disbelief that had persisted after nearly a decade. “And they got into a knife fight over it.”

“That’s leaving out a lot of details,” Marisol protested.

“World of Warcraft?” Allura asked carefully.

“It’s a computer game,” Pidge said. “An MMORPG.”

Allura blinked at her.

“Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game,” Pidge elaborated. “A lot of people playing the same game from all over the world, and it never really ends. Some people get really into it, which…”

Marisol shrugged. “It’s fun and I’m dedicated.”

“She’s part of a _guild_ ,” Lance whispered. “She has _minimum time requirements_.”

“Oh, shove off,” Marisol huffed. “I have my hobbies and you have yours.”

“My _hobbies_ don’t get me stabbed by an ancient vampire fuckboy,” Lance said. “My job, sure, but not my _hobbies_. The most I’m going to get stabbed with there is a sewing needle when I forget to wear a thimble. Also, I’m _still_ not convinced that Albany ended positively. Why were you even _there?”_

“Microbiology conference in upstate New York, actually.” Marisol shrugged at his expression. “What? They had some interesting panels going on, and I’m qualified enough to attend. He was there on business, we ran into each other mostly by chance at one of the dinners, and there wasn’t any violence. He was… mostly polite, even.”

“Something happened.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Marisol sighed.

“I’m still stuck on the fact that you got stabbed in an argument about _World of Warcraft_ ,” Pidge said. “I’m… not sure if I’m impressed or disturbed.”

“Both is good,” Marisol offered. “I mean, I’m feeling that right back for the fact that you’re piloting giant robot cats in an intergalactic war.”

“Mari…” Lance groaned. “Please don’t.”

“A war in space, _Lanzador_ ,” she said, glaring. “I reserve the right to judge and worry about you. I’m your sister; it’s my job.”

“What did you just call him?” Allura asked, frowning. “What is ‘Lanzador’?”

“No,” Lance said, but Marisol ignored him with a grin.

“So, Lance’s real name is Alejandro, which you might have already known,” Marisol said. “You might be wondering how he got ‘Lance’ out of that, since he apparently hasn’t told you.”

“ _Mari.”_

“See,” Marisol said, dodging Lance’s attempts to press a hand over her mouth. “When Lance was a kid, he really liked first-person shooter games at the arcade, the ones with the actual fake guns instead of just normal controllers, right? And at one point he wanted to learn how to shoot for real, so we signed him up for lessons. Archery, guns, whatever. We already knew he wanted to be a fighter pilot, which meant soldiering at _some_ point, so why not let him get ahead of the curve on that?”

“Marisol, _please_.”

“Well, that explains why his aim was always absurdly good,” Shiro mused. “That much practice would definitely have an effect.”

“Oh, he was always good with firearms, and pretty good with archery, but…” Marisol laughed. “Oh man, when he tried to do baseball?”

“Marisol!”

“His overhand was so bad. Just… flipping awful. So obviously, Ricardo and Roberto took like three days to realize they could tease him about it without making him feel _too_ bad, and so they started to sarcastically call him _Lanzador_.”

“Pitcher,” Hunk translated. “Like in baseball. I vaguely remember Lance getting grumpy about that.”

“By the time he got to like… fifth grade, maybe?” Marisol dropped to the ground to avoid Lance’s flying tackle and popped back up straight. “We’d been living in California for a few years, and he just used that as a starting point to get to ‘Lance’ so he wouldn’t get low-key rage-mode whenever someone butchered his name or used a nickname too similar to it. Like, the older you get in the US, the more annoyed you get about people mispronouncing your name if it’s foreign, right?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said immediately.

“Obviously,” Hunk agreed.

“I feel that,” Pidge nodded.

There was a silent moment where everyone looked at her. Lance even stopped trying to catch Marisol.

“You do?” Hunk asked after a moment.

“…Oh god, I never told you guys my full name, did I?” Pidge asked, laughing a little. “You probably thought it was Katherine, didn’t you?”

“It’s… not?” Lance asked. “Isn’t Katie usually short for Katherine?”

“Yeah, in _English_ ,” Pidge said. “Mom was annoyed that her parents gave her an American name when she was born, so she convinced my dad to give us at least one Serbian name too. Something that could be easily shortened to a simple American nickname, so we could avoid mispronunciation issues like you just said, but still. Gotta connect to the home culture, right?”

“So…” Lance prompted.

“I asked her to help me pick a new name that fit that cultural connection when I was transitioning. My full first name is Katarina,” Pidge said. “So I know how much it sucks when people _think_ they know how to pronounce your name because they’ve seen a similar one in English, and then utterly _butcher_ it as a result, especially since the same thing happened with my dead name.”

“Katarina… The pronunciation seems pretty similar to how I’d read it in Spanish,” Lance mused. “Still sticking with Pidge, though?”

“Stick to Pidge, yeah.” She kicked her legs back and forth a little. “My middle name is a pretty simple Ana, but again: people think they can pronounce it, but get it wrong because they go American pronunciation.”

“I could never get Matt’s middle name right,” Shiro admitted.

“…do we get to know it?” Keith asked.

Shiro looked at Pidge. “I can’t actually say it, Pidge.”

“Željko,” Pidge said with relish. “Mom decided that since Dad had picked an English first name and nobody had trouble with pronouncing Holt, then it didn’t matter if Matt’s middle name was hard for Americans. Matthew Željko Holt.”

Lance felt his eyes widen. “Oh god, how many teachers tried to—”

“Like half of them,” Pidge preempted the question. “There was like _one_ that got it right, and that’s because she was Russian.”

“I can see why your grandparents gave your mom an English name,” Marisol said. “I mean, I bet I could pronounce it, but…”

“You think?”

“Željko,” Marisol said, a little slowly, but seemingly correct to Lance’s untrained ear.

“That was… actually pretty close,” Pidge said, clearly surprised. “Anyone else wanna try? My mom’s middle name is Snežana, if you want to give that a shot too.”

“Not even gonna try,” Keith said, making a face. “I’m bad at languages.”

“I’ve been working in academia for decades,” Marisol said; the casual way she spoke was distinctly at odds with the way she pulled Lance closer and hugged him again, but hid how desperate the movement was from everyone but Lance himself. He felt the claws digging lightly into his skin as she clutched at him, probably at the mercy of a sudden, unpleasant surge of worry about him disappearing at random again. She kept talking like she hadn’t just done that, even as her tail curled around Lance’s in another hug. “Most of my degrees are in STEM fields, and you can’t really do STEM work without international cooperation; if you care enough about being polite and respectful, you learn to at least _try_ to say names properly. The electrical engineering work involved a lot of eastern Europeans, so it’s not my first time fumbling through Slavic names.”

“Sla…” Keith made a face as he trailed off, and then started again. “Honestly, I almost forgot ‘Slavic’ was an ethnicity and not just…”

“Yeah,” Pidge said, making a face. “You can imagine how uncomfortable his name made me.”

“I get the feeling that I’m missing something,” Marisol noted.

“One of the aliens we work with sometimes is named Slav,” Lance explained. “He’s a genius, looks like a giant ferret with too many legs and a beak, lives with the Blade of Marmora, aaaaaaand has OCD that was exacerbated to extreme levels by torture. So. That’s… that’s Slav.”

“And through the translation matrix, he sounds like he has a really strong accent, and it’s not even a Slavic accent, it’s…” Pidge puffed out her cheeks. “Someone help me out. I’m shit at accents.”

“South Asian?” Keith said. “Like… India and whatever’s in that subcontinent?”

“I’d actually say the closest parallel is probably Pakistani,” Shiro said. He didn’t look up from the papers he’d gotten. Lance was pretty sure he could see a grade school report card from where he was standing, along with a few other photocopies of what was clearly elementary school awards and projects.

(That was… kind of adorable.)

“Unfortunate coincidence,” Marisol acknowledged. “Uncomfortable for everyone involved, but no one to really blame.”

“Exactly,” Pidge grumbled.

“Ahem.”

Everyone turned to look at Allura. She smiled brightly at them, discomfort unnoticeable save for the scent of Altean tension hormones in the air.

“If I might suggest that we move this to the recreation center? It would be more comfortable, I assure you.”

Lance shrugged. “I’m down. Anyone else?”

No one objected, and if Lance noticed Marisol sticking a little closer than necessary to him, discretely checking for scars he thankfully didn’t have…

Well, he could tease her about it when things weren’t so raw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT IT IN BEFORE MIDNIGHT. IT'S ON TIME. IT COUNTS.
> 
> Marisol has a right to be worried. She practically raised the kid.  
> There are points in the chapter where everyone but the siblings seems to cease to exist for a bit, especially the Alteans. That's intentional.
> 
> Also, meet Gaius. From a distance. Say hello to The Original Fuckboy. The _Founding_ Fuckboy. He's like a frat boy, only he's really old and rich and mostly refined until you piss him off, which Marisol can do with astounding ease.  
>  (My commentary there is this: violence is on a different sliding scale for magical folk, depending on how immortal and pain-immune the species is. A stabbing is still a big fucking deal, and Lance is right to criticize Marisol for brushing it off, but it's not _quite_ as big of a deal as it would appear to be from a human perspective.)
> 
> ...I have opinions on Slav as a character. A lot of opinions that I would very much like to shout at the writing team because WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA??? (The accent is racist and plays on the "TI help from South Asia" stereotype. His name is an ETHNICITY, one which doesn't even match up with his accent. His OCD is played for a joke before he's rounded out as a character. I am just... very frustrated. I want to like him out of spite because so many people dislike him, but I have so many problems with this design and writing.)
> 
> I also have opinions on people butchering my name, which most of the humans here share. Shiro obviously went with a shortened name in canon. Katie is short for SOMETHING but we don't know what, so I'm shoving my Balkan hands in and going "MINE." Lance and Hunk don't have a lot of info on them but I'm betting those are nicknames chosen by tired immigrant boys who don't want to deal with Americans butchering their names _again_.  
>  (Not a single teacher has ever gotten my name right on the first try, so you can imagine why that tangent happened.)


	27. Acanthus and Sage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story time! Exposition, world-building, and a little family history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: discussions of the concubus lifestyle; mentions of sex work (and a short bit of supposed judgement from someone else); mentions of the following kinks in a discussion about kinks that characters dislike: daddy kink, feet, rimming; xenobiology (mostly relating to circadian rhythms); mentions of fetishization based on race and species; mentions of cancer and leukemia, the latter of which occurs to children (all involved parties survived save for one unnamed adult character; to skip, stop reading at "that's when tragedy tries to strike" and start again at "Luckily, we're not fully vampires.")

Shiro flipped through the papers he’d gotten, smiling softly as he tried to piece together all the things he’d missed by getting captured. A new friend here, a quarter of straight As there, a growing consistency in softball scores… there were plenty of things that Shiro hadn’t been around for, but Emiko seemed excited to share it all with him even now. There was no resentment that he could see, however much he would have accepted it if there had been.

“So…” Marisol drawled, and Shiro looked up to see her where she’d been for the past half hour, sitting on the couch with Lance, wings half-cocooning them in a show of that vampire possessiveness that Lance sometimes referenced. “Shiro, yeah?”

“That would be me,” Shiro allowed, nodding.

Marisol tilted her head, bit her bottom lip for a moment, and stared at him with a narrowed gaze that didn’t necessarily pierce through him or feel like being under a microscope, but had him feeling like there was more going on than he wanted to know.

“How offended would be if I called you a DILF?”

Shiro felt his eyes widen even as he choked on thin air. “ _What?”_

“I’ll take that as a ‘please don’t,’ then,” Marisol said. She smiled brightly at him. “But the offer stands.”

Shiro gaped at her.

“If everyone in your family is like this,” Pidge said slowly, “Then a lot of things about Lance suddenly make way more sense.”

“Not everyone,” Lance said, not lifting his head from Marisol’s shoulder, or even opening his eyes. “But enough.”

“Life is a lot easier for a concubus if you learn to treat sex casually,” Marisol said. “Being able make jokes about it is just… a lot easier than treating it as taboo like so much of the American education system does.”

“The Garrison didn’t do too bad of a job,” Lance mused. “I mean, nowhere near as thorough or in-depth as when Mamá gave me the talk, but they didn’t go down the ‘abstinence is the only truth’ road, talked about more than just one or two kinds of protection, and they addressed queer stuff, which is more than most do, I think.”

“Mm,” Marisol hummed, reaching up to run her fingers through Lance’s hair as she stared off into the air. Watching them, Shiro felt that Pidge was very right in saying that a lot of things made more sense now. Lance had been fairly touchy since Shiro met him, if not quite as spontaneous about it as Hunk was, and it had only gotten more intense after he’d told everyone he was an incubus. Seeing him with his sister made it fairly obvious that Lance was a product of his environment. Even accounting for the circumstances, it was clear that the Álvarez were a very physically affectionate family.

“Can I ask how long you’re staying for?” He said after a moment.

“Two or three days,” Marisol said, her tone light and unconcerned. “I fed on sex last night, and the night before, so I’m good for almost a week if I make sure I don’t use up the energy for anything unnecessary.”

“What are you going to do for blood?” Lance asked.

“Well, I figured it would be rude to assume I could get some here,” Marisol said. “So I brought along some blood packs in the specially insulated box that’ll keep them chilled until I need them. It’s the one that looks like a cooler, and… actually? Hunk, could you hand me that?”

Hunk looked around for a moment, locating the right box and moving to hand it over.

“Thanks,” Marisol said, taking the box and setting it next to her on the couch. She rifled through it a moment, jostling Lance enough that he sat up straight and watched her. “So as much as we all disapprove of you fighting a war in space, because, uh, _obviously_ , we aren’t going to ignore the fact that you’re doing good work out here, so… yeah. Have a reward, I guess?”

She pulled out a long plastic pouch, clearly filled with blood, though it was darker than any blood Shiro would have associated with humans, carrying an oddly oily sheen that was visible even through the plastic.

Lance’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“Had to call in a favor to get it on short notice like this, but yes, it’s _exactly_ what you’re thinking.”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Lance whispered. “You got _dragon’s blood_.”

“Have at it,” Marisol said, handing it to him and pulling out something that looked more or less like a metal straw from the cooler.

Lance was still staring at the pouch with something approaching reverence, but quickly grabbed the straw and stuck it in. The first sip he took led to him closing his eyes and outright moaning as he slumped against Marisol again. Shiro felt his eyebrows climbing higher.

“So… that’s not, like, going to get him the magic equivalent of drunk or something, right?” Pidge asked. “And it’s not an aphrodisiac or drugged or something? Because he looks like he’s enjoying that _way_ too much.”

“Fuck off,” Lance mumbled.

“It’s a delicacy,” Marisol told them. “Practically ambrosia.”

“You would know, I guess,” Hunk muttered, barely loud enough to hear.

“Hell yeah, I would,” Marisol laughed. “You don’t need to worry about it. It’s not drugged or anything, just really tasty to anyone who feeds on blood. Kind of like how sometimes you moan when you get a really good steak, I guess? It’s just absurdly good, but also really expensive, like most supernatural blood, since the supply is way lower than humans.”

“I haven’t had dragon’s blood in years,” Lance said. “Not counting the half-human guy down in Cancun.”

“I remember your face after you came back to the hotel the next morning,” Marisol said. “You really liked that one.”

Lance snorted, but didn’t answer, too focused on drinking the dragon’s blood.

“Slow down and enjoy it, kiddo,” Marisol muttered, reaching up to run her fingers through Lance’s hair again, angling her hand to avoid the horns without a thought. “You’re not going to be seeing much of that for a while, Lance. Stop and smell the roses or whatever.”

“Better than Altean, then?” Shiro asked.

Lance nodded, a sharp, silent jerk of his head.

“I know I shouldn’t be offended,” Allura said quietly, taking a seat next to Shiro. “But for some reason I still am.”

Marisol laughed.

o.o.o.o.o

“I’m afraid my tastes run rather differently from, well, _you_.”

Coran watched as Marisol tilted her head. “Gay?”

“Indeed. Well, close enough. Altean schema for sexuality are not the same as yours, unsurprisingly.”

“That’s fair,” she said, shrugging and turning back to the window, watching the stars float by as the Castle slowly spun in place. She was back to looking fully human. “I’m not looking to get much done on that front while I’m here anyway. Shirogane got so _red_ , and the others are all too young for me.”

“I’d have been worried if you considered them options,” Coran told her.

“The only ones that are even _legally_ adults are Hunk and your princess, one of whom I babysat since he could barely walk, and the other of whom is sleeping with my brother, and even _they’re_ really a little young for me.” Marisol huffed, blowing a curl out of her face. “I mean, I know that Allura’s older than she looks, but, like, developmentally or whatever? She’s gotta be what, twenty?”

“I believe the paladins concluded that the human equivalent was nineteen.”

“Right. My minimum’s about twenty-five,” Marisol said. She still didn’t turn to look at him. “Listen, you… seem to be the closest thing this ship has to a mentally healthy adult. A bit quirky, sure, but you’re not a teenager, and you’re more… you’re better at coping than Shirogane, from what I can tell.”

Coran frowned. “Considering what he’s been through, he’s holding up remarkably well.”

“Yeah, but he’s my age developmentally, and he’s still struggling,” she sighed. “And like, it makes sense? It totally makes sense. It doesn’t make him a lesser person or anything, but it’s… I can tell, from things Lance has mentioned and from Shirogane’s body language, that he’s still not… all together. He’s doing good, but if I were to go ahead and label anyone on board the ‘real adult,’ as the person that works to make sure everyone sleeps and eats and takes breaks when they need to, I’d choose you. You’ve been through all that shit before, yeah? You’re a real adult. Proper or whatever. Middle-aged and experienced and… I don’t know, settled?”

“A real adult,” Coran repeated, and then shook his head. “I suppose that by your standards, then, I am.”

She grinned at him. “You’re the weird uncle, sure, but I’ve paid attention when Lance talks and writes. They all rely on you. You’re the one doing the repairs, running the drones, planning the training, coding those cryopod things… I don’t know if I’d say that they look up to you? But you’re like… the rock. The kind of person people go to when they need to talk about emotional stuff.”

“I know,” Coran said, stepping closer to gaze out the window with her. “I am curious, though. Why _are_ you telling me this?”

“I wanted you to understand why I wanted to thank you. My brother would probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for you, going by his stories. He can heal himself pretty well, especially considering he’s half-human, but stuff like… the explosion by the crystal, for instance. He told me about that. He was still in human form when it hit, so it hit hard, and he’d have died if you hadn’t been there to provide medical help.”

Coran shook his head. “He was injured saving me, because he noticed that the drone was an imposter when I didn’t. I should have paid more attention.”

“Let me thank you, dammit.” Marisol pouted at him, an expression that was more than a little reminiscent of Lance’s own. Coran couldn’t hold back his own laugh when he saw it. Marisol went back to grinning. “Knew I could make you smile.”

“You’re… a lot like your brother,” Coran said after a moment. “It’s easy to see how close you are.”

“He’s my little brother,” Marisol said, turning back to the stars. “I helped raise him, and… I mean, I love Teodoro and Diana too, but Lance was the first of my little siblings, and he can _get_ stuff in a way that the kids can’t, not yet. Almost everything I know about childcare comes from helping Mamá and my step-parents raise Lance. So if we’re a lot alike, it’s because I was so involved in basically everything in his life.”

“I see,” Coran said, and they lapsed into silence for a bit, watching the passing stars. Coran didn’t have much of a chance to stop and take a moment these days; even when the paladins and Allura were taking a break, there were things that he was needed for. The castle was accustomed to a population of hundreds, most of whom were either soldier or staff. Now, Coran was all that was left of both. It was unsurprising that he’d taken to working through the night whenever he could manage it, but Marisol… “I don’t suppose you’re going to go to bed yourself soon? All the other earthlings are either sleeping or trying to right now.”

“I need less sleep than a human does,” Marisol said. “Not by much; my healthy average is about of six hours a night, compared to a human’s eight. I can work with four, but it’s not super pleasant.”

“I see. Alteans also require less sleep than humans, though we do require an occasional deeper period of sleep.”

“Like… hibernation?” Marisol asked. “Or something else?”

“Perhaps… oh, five hours? I believe that is the equivalent? Five hours per night, and our days are approximately twenty-seven hours.” Coran tapped his fingers against the railing. “And then every five days, we sleep triple that.”

“Augmented cat nap patterns, maybe,” Marisol said, shrugging. “Can you work with a more regular circadian rhythm, or is the repetitive short-then-long pattern pretty ingrained?”

“We can work with something more regular, yes,” Coran nodded. “Allura and I have been changing our cycles as much as we can while remaining healthy in order to work more efficiently with the paladins. Given that they are, for the most part, human, and all have more or less human sleep cycles, it’s better overall to modify ours within reason than to try to change theirs to something that could have a negative effect on their health.”

“Considering you’re in a war… yeah.” Marisol leaned against the railing, her shoulders creeping upwards as she rested her weight on her elbows. “So do you compromise with six or seven hours a night, then? Are you using human days or Altean ones?”

“Thereabouts, and then about ten every four days. We’re using human cycles, simply due to the balance of species on the ship right now. I believe the paladins enjoy the half-days they get for training on the days that Allura and I sleep in.”

“Hey, if it works for you,” Marisol said, shrugging. “I’d love to know what kind of environment lead to that kind of sleep cycle, though. The evolutionary progress on Altea must have been _fascinating_ , going by what I’ve heard about. Like, Lance mentioned that you had a lot of issues with natural disasters and animals that relied on strength to be dangerous, but way less speed-based predators and venomous or poisonous species than Earth, right? What do you think led to that? Or do you have actual records of the process? Like, fossils and whatnot?”

Coran felt a smile grow on his face. “We do have an extensive library, and I believe Pidge has been working on a visual translation matrix to provide an English option for many of the books. I could show you some of the histories and textbooks, if you’d like. I even made educational videos for youngsters when I was in my prime!”

“Yeah?” Marisol lightly punched him in the arm, did a little hop-skip that ended with her landing into a flourishing pose where she gestured at the door, and grinned again. “Lead on, my good man.”

He did.

o.o.o.o.o

“So… I haven’t actually bothered to ask until today, but I’m curious now,” Pidge said. She pointed at Lance and Marisol with the spoon she’d been using for breakfast. “How did your parents actually get together? A concubus and two humans, how did that _happen?”_

“Well…” Marisol drawled, leaning back in her seat and stretching in a way that probably would have emphasized her chest if not for the backless purple turtleneck she wore. “My bio-dad isn’t actually around. I’ve met him maybe four times? He’s kind of a dick and basically the situation there was just that Mamá decided that she wanted a kid and found an incubus that was willing to play sperm donor and not stick around. No resentment on my part, but I’m kinda glad he wasn’t around. My _step-parents_ , on the other hand…”

“You see,” Lance took over, “When a 33-year-old librarian, a 36-year-old middle-school music teacher, and a 172-year-old children's learning coordinator from a natural history museum, who got locked in at 38 when her succubus turning happened, all walk into an education conference in Cuba…”

“Your parents are all _teachers?”_ Pidge asked.

“Educators,” Lance corrected. “They all help people learn, but only Papá is actually a teacher.”

“Mamá was never really a fan of dating under the age line of like… thirty-ish?” Marisol shrugged. “After that point, everyone’s enough of an adult that the chronological age gap isn’t all that relevant, you know? Anyway, that was like, nineteen, maybe twenty years ago? I’m older than both of them, funnily enough, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

“So yeah, Mamá is actually a museum director in California now, and Papá switched to teaching music theory at a university. Mom’s head librarian at the branch she works at, even though they offered to let her become like… a regional manager or something? I don’t remember, but she turned it down because she liked working with the people coming to the library in person,” Lance said, and then took a big bite of food goo.

“Tell us about them,” Pidge prompted.

“Now I’m kind of curious too,” Keith admitted.

Lance looked around for a moment, and then shrugged. “Mamá got turned somewhere towards the middle of the World War One. She doesn’t talk much about her life before that, but she grew up in Cuba, and she basically cycles between Cuba and other parts of the world every two or three decades. Uh… Mamá and Mom are mestizo, but Papá has more indigenous blood than they do, and I think one of my great-great-grandparents on that side was black? Not sure, though; never really had a reason to check for sure. Mom’s dad is actually Scottish, and her family name is McClain, but her mom is Cuban, and if I talk about my Abuela, then it’s usually her, since the other two are dead.”

“ _Very_ long dead in the case of Mamá’s parents,” Marisol snorted.

“Mom and Papá both took Mamá’s name after they got married,” Lance said. “Most of the family was okay with that, but…”

“Ugh, Tía Aurelia was _pissed_ ,” Marisol groaned. “We never even told her about the whole concubus thing since she was so adamantly against how non-traditional the wedding was.”

“So… how did they explain you?” Keith asked. “If they all looked like they were in their thirties, then you don’t really make sense unless your mom was like… thirteen, right?”

“They think I’m her younger sister, which, you know, whatever?” Marisol rolled her eyes. “I just avoid her when we have reunions with that side of the family.”

“We _all_ avoid her. She’s Papá’s sister, so he usually handles her and her husband,” Lance said. “But I guess every family has someone like that?”

“Mm, yeah.” Pidge kicked her legs back and forth under the table. “So, a librarian, a museum director, and a university music professor. I guess that explains how you got the work ethic to get through the Garrison despite your… extracurricular activities?”

“You can just say sleeping around, you know,” Lance said flatly. “That’s what it was. I was feeling peaky and chatted with classmates until someone mentioned they were feeling frustrated or flirted, and then just… offered.”

“You’d never have realized how many people he actually slept with, going just by his personality,” Hunk laughed. “Seriously, everyone was like Pidge and thought he was just being friendly, or joke flirting.”

“I don’t _like_ aggressive flirting! It’s creepy!” Lance protested. “I’d rather just make a joke and go from there! If they want to sleep with me, then fine, and if they don’t, then I get a nice conversation out of the situation! Acting all ‘darkly seductive’ or whatever doesn’t even _work_ , it just makes them see you as a creeper.”

“Also plays off of stereotypes,” Marisol said. “I mean, some people get off on it, but, uh… fetishization much?”

Keith looked up sharply, eyes wide and panic evident.

“No, don’t worry, you’re good,” Lance said immediately, waving a hand like it would bat away the sudden fear from Keith that he’d been crossing a boundary the whole time. “I’d have told you if it bothered me.”

“…you’re sure?” Keith asked, his voice so small that, for a second, everyone tensed up. Keith had spent the last few months coming out of the stone shell that had kept him seeming like he was too cool, too emo, too awkward for people. It had taken everything from coming to space to now for Keith to be comfortable with joking around with the team instead of hanging back and trying to figure out how to be ‘normal.’ The moments where he retreated, unsure again, were few and far between these days, but…

“Yeah, asshole, I’m sure,” Lance said, sending Keith a reassuring grin. “I wouldn’t be in your bed every few nights if I was bothered by your thing for my demon form. Trust me. You don’t need to worry.”

“Besides, there are worse things to run into in bed,” Marisol said. “There are definitely people out there who think concubi are okay with any kink at all, which, uh, _no._ ”

“The worst of the common ones is when people try to call me ‘Papi’ in the middle of it,” Lance said, making a face. “Every ounce of arousal just. Boom. Gone.”

“Ah yes, the racist daddy kink,” Marisol scoffed. “Always fun.”

Shiro was starting to look uncomfortable, but didn’t say anything.

“Ah…I don’t believe I understand,” Coran said.

“Well, a daddy kink is when a person gets off on one bed partner calling the other ‘daddy,’ which, yeah I see those looks on your faces, I don’t get it either,” Marisol interrupted Allura and Coran before they could comment, “But you know what? If they don’t do it me, then I don’t care. They can keep their kinks in the bedroom, and so long as everyone’s a consenting adult and they don’t take it out into public, I don’t give a shit.”

“The racist part is that ‘Papi’ is technically the word ‘daddy’ in Spanish, but it doesn’t have the same sexual connotations,” Lance said, his nose wrinkling. “We call _children_ that, as nicknames? It’s weird to hear it in bed and incredibly uncomfortable and… yeah, it’s racist, too.”

“Second of the worst common offenders?” Marisol asked.

“Rimming,” Lance said immediately. “And anything involving feet. I can do a foot massage, but I’m washing my hands afterwards, before the sex starts, and if the massage gets a sexual reaction, I’m leaving.”

“What’s rimming?” Pidge asked.

Lance gave her an odd look. “You… don’t know?”

“I’m fourteen and have had minimal internet access in the past six months,” Pidge deadpanned. “I’m not uncomfortable with learning about sex, but I haven’t exactly had a lot of research time.”

“Fifteen,” Marisol corrected.

“…what?”

“It’s April sixteenth back home,” Marisol explained. “So… yeah. Happy belated birthday?”

“…I missed my own _birthday._ ” Pidge stared down at her hands. “What the _fuck_.”

Lance leaned way over and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s the whole ‘being in space’ thing.”

“No shit,” Pidge said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Holy shit. I turned fifteen and didn’t even _realize_.”

“To answer your earlier question,” Lance said, “Rimming is basically oral sex, but on the ass instead of the vagina or the dick. Eating out someone’s ass, basically. It’s really gross, and I haven’t agreed to it, basically ever.”

 “Okay, I am officially uncomfortable with this conversation,” Shiro said. “I’ve been uncomfortable for a little while now, actually, and I thought I could handle it so I’d know about the things that cause the paladins trouble, but I can’t. If you want to keep up with this topic, I’ll be in another room.”

“We can change the subject,” Lance offered. “We could go back to talking about our families?”

“The story behind how Tía Rosa and the twins joined the family is always interesting,” Marisol suggested. “Not exactly _happy_ , but it all turned out alright in the end.”

“…okay, then.” Shiro leaned forward, lacing his fingers toether as he rested his forearms on the table.

“Right, so,” Lance said with a grin, gearing up to tell a story. “The year is 2002. Marisol hasn’t even been born yet, but Mamá’s over a hundred years old and still kicking, and she’s getting a degree in archaeology because my entire family is made up of Ravenclaws.”

“Ravendor, here.” Marisol put a hand up. “And Teodoro and Diana are totally Slytherdor, don’t even bother. Rosa’s Slytherclaw, too.”

Allura and Coran looked very confused.

“I’ll explain later,” Lance promised. “Anyway, Mamá is working on getting another Master’s degree, because that’s just what this family does with all that immortality. You can see where Marisol gets it from. Anyway, while she’s there, she gets along really well with one of her classmates, a human woman named Rosa who’s working on a theoretical physics degree. I can’t actually remember what class they were sharing, since Mamá was mostly taking bio classes, but I’m sure they had their reasons.”

“I think it might have been a math class, honestly,” Marisol muttered.

“So Mamá and Rosa get along _great_. They end up being friends outside of school too, and eventually Mamá decides that Tía Rosa is _utterly brilliant_ , and too smart to keep in the dark, and so she tells her about magic. I think she was hoping that Rosa would take one look at magic and go ‘this is a science that has not been fully scienced, and requires further sciencing.”

“Spoiler alert: that’s exactly what happened,” Marisol yawned.

“So Rosa and Mamá end up playing around with that whole realm of _stuff,_ and Rosa’s theoretical physics background ends up being a huge help. Now, she’s not the first or only person to try to mix science and magic, or try to use one to analyze the other. Nina does it, too. But the supernatural _and_ in-the-know scientific community both run the gamut. Some people think it’s sacrilege to mix the two, and some people think that magic and science are just two sides of the same coin. The point is, there are journals about this sort of thing.” Lance paused to take a breath.

“Keep in mind,” Marisol said, holding a spoonful of goo a few inches from her mouth, “That Rosa _still can’t do magic_ at that point. She’s just using spectrometers and shit to analyze the magic that Mamá and her friends do.”

“Right! So the thing is, Rosa’s reading up on academic journals scholarly articles, the works. She’s still working on her degree, but her focus has shifted entirely over into the realm of mixed magic and science, which isn’t all that bad since a few of the faculty are magical enough to let her do projects and stuff on it.”

“Been there. Having magicals on university staff is _nice_ ,” Marisol sighed. “They’re usually way more understanding about some stuff.”

“Right, so that’s going on, they’re doing their thing, and Rosa’s making a name for herself. Now, I’m not going to make claims about Tía Rosa being a genius, because I’m not qualified to make those kinds of declarations. She’s really good at what she does, though, and I’m not surprised that she’s known for this kind of stuff.”

“Of course, that’s when tragedy tries to strike,” Marisol sighed.

“Yeah… she got sick. Turned out she had a brain tumor. Some kind of cancer, I think, and whatever they were trying wasn’t working. It ran in her family, and nobody really had high hopes.” Lance shrugged. “So Mamá offered to turn her. And Tía Rosa accepted, and everything was fine. New diet, new rules, new world, but she was alive and could do magic now, so everything was fine, right?”

“Wrong!” Marisol practically sang.

“Remember how I said that cancer ran in her family? It killed off her sister, and for some reason that I can’t actually remember the story behind, the sister’s twin sons ended up in Tía Rosa’s custody.” Lance paused for a moment, then continued. “They ended up getting leukemia at like… _six_.”

“Bitch, I’m _still_ convinced that was a curse of some sort. You do not have that kind of coincidence happen at random,” Marisol muttered darkly. “Of course, I wasn’t even born back then…”

“Yeah, we don’t… really know what happened there,” Lance admitted, scratching at the back of his head. “But Tía Rosa got desperate after nothing worked for them either, and just… turned them too.”

“Luckily, we’re _not_ fully vampires,” Marisol said, before anyone could process that and come to the supposedly obvious conclusion. “So we _can_ age to some extent, if we’re turned young enough, or just born. We’re sort of… magically-genetically designed around our diets, so we age to about mid-twenties and stall out there, since that’s been the prime age to sleep around without much trouble for the past century or two. So the twins did end up aging, and they and Rosa have basically stuck around with Mamá since.”

“They’re assholes,” Lance said, and rolled his eyes when Marisol scoffed. “What? They are!”

“What kind of assholes?” Pidge asked.

“The stereotypical twin kind,” Marisol said. “Since we’re already using Harry Potter metaphors, think Weasley.”

Pidge’s eyebrows crept upwards. “So… are they in academia like the rest of you?”

“Nah, Ricardo plays guitar professionally, and Roberto’s a dance instructor that does a lot of exhibition stuff, and they both sometimes do dinner theater and restaurant gigs? Not together, though. They’re the ones I learned a lot of stuff from,” Lance said. “Though Marisol’s not technically full academia either.”

Marisol shrugged as eyes turned her way again. “Hey, I love biology, but university research doesn’t really come with the highest salary, especially not when I’m working on a new degree. So I do academia for a day job, and dance at a burlesque club in the evenings.”

Shiro choked on his drink.

Marisol met his eyes with her own raised eyebrow, unimpressed. “Got something to say?”

“It’s just… not what I expected,” Shiro said carefully. “After everything you’ve both said about how you dislike being sexualized.”

“I’m fine with it so long as it happens on _my_ terms,” Marisol said firmly. “Burlesque pays well enough for me to be comfortable, and I’m good at it, and it makes it a lot easier to find a meal two or three times a week if I find someone every other day or so. It’s just as valid as my university work, and I can kick the ass of any mundane who tries to get in with me after I reject them, and the magicals… usually know better than to try a second time.”

“She’s a scary bitch,” Lance said.

“I’m a scary bitch,” Marisol confirmed with a nod, like this was something the two had long since gotten used to saying.

“I have no idea what’s going on.” a voice came from the entryway, and they all turned to see Nina standing there. She was leaning against the doorway, clad in what looked like a thick, olive green, cotton knit sweater dress and black leggings, and yawned before she continued. “But I would agree maybe half the time.”

“That’s… fair,” Marisol admitted.

“I’ve seen you when you're at Denny’s,” Nina said flatly, pushing away from the doorway and coming closer. “And Claire’s.”

“But they have such cute accessories!”

“You’re like… five times the age of the average Claire’s customer,” Nina said as she plopped down in the seat next to Marisol. “What are we eating?”

“Food goo,” Lance said. “Also telling stories. Wanna talk about your fun times with Marisol?”

“No. Too much fire,” Nina said, ignoring Marisol's offended whine. “She can tell them if she wants.”

Lance laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so some recent tumblr posts have made me aware of some things:
> 
> I don't always know if the way I've written something is racist. I'm a white girl in the United States (ethnically Balkan, which muddies things if I'm in, say, England), and I have all the privilege that comes with that. I do my best to research, but I _do not_ know what I'm doing sometimes. This fic was never supposed to get this long (it was supposed to be three chapters with a total plot that covered what ended up being the first arc), so I've ended up doing a lot more with it than I expected, and that means _way_ more chances to mess up, especially in regards to racism against Latinx people. Given the premise of the story, there's a lot of opportunities for me to accidentally fuck up and fetishize someone. I try my best to address things in this vein in-universe (for instance, the conversation about "Papi" in this chapter is based on a number of tumblr posts I've seen by the Latinx community on the subject), and to implement some degree of intersectionality regarding things like race and gender when it comes to the magical community and the concubus species.
> 
> I try my best, but there's still a good chance I've messed up somewhere.
> 
> So what I'm asking you guys is this: if you happen to be Latinx (or one of the other cultures I've touched on because of the paladins*), then please tell me if I'm doing well or fucking up. I do not want to write a story about the Latinx experience, because that is _not_ my story to tell, but when writing a story this long with this premise, I do have to touch on some things to provide a holistic, intersectional view of the supernatural world I've developed.
> 
> And I need to know if I've done something wrong or right, so please: tell me.
> 
> *Save for Serbian-American, because that's my life. I know that one because I've lived it.
> 
> (And, as I always request when I ask specific questions down here in the author's notes: please don't comment with ONLY the answer to this question. There's over 5k worth of material in this chapter; answering the question but not saying anything about the chapter just leaves me feeling like I wrote it for nothing, you know?)


	28. Pink Rose and Ivy Geranium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Might we have this dance, good sir?  
> \----  
> Nina talks history, Shiro gets called out on not taking care of himself, and people dance. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really cutting it close this time...

“So… what’s your story?” Pidge prompted, leaning across the table to get a better look at Nina. “How do you fall into all this?”

“Marisol and I have been best friends since we were kids,” she said. “I grew up nearby, had a family history in magic, and we kind of went from there.”

Pidge pouted.

“She wants details,” Lance said, “Because she basically had the Rosa reaction to finding out about magic. I’ve done my best to sate that curiosity, but…”

Nina tilted her head at Pidge, evaluating. “What’s your scientific background? Do you have one?”

“Programming, mostly,” Pidge said. “A bit of engineering and other related computer stuff, and recently it’s been anything with military applications, but programming is my specialty.”

“That’s a good framework for wards and summoning,” Nina mused. “Or anything involving runes and other spells that use a matrix. You’re lucky that that’s the kind of thing Lance was largely competent at.”

“Actually,” Lance said with a smile, “I was kind of hoping I could convince you to maybe talk to Pidge and Allura about magic while you’re here? And beef up our defenses? We don’t have any money that would be valid on Earth, but we’ve got Balmera crystals if you want them.”

“Might not be able to do much with only a few days to prep, but I can do a preliminary overview and figure out what the scope of the problem is,” Nina said. “You’d have to be willing to wait until the next time Sol and I do this.”

“Works for me,” Lance said with a nod. “Allura? Your call.”

“It would be much appreciated,” Allura said. “I don’t know if the magic we’ve encountered with the Galra and the magic that Alteans used in regards to quintessence is similar to yours, but any groundwork, and any help, is useful.”

“You’re protecting the universe and kind of responsible for the safety of a kid I’ve known since his birth,” Nina said, waving a hand almost dismissively. “I’d like payment, sure, because this _is_ , in fact, my livelihood, but I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“You really are a softy,” Marisol teased.

“I will set your bed on fire,” Nina said, without looking up from her food goo. “And you will find the flames impossible to douse.”

“Babe… _rude_.”

“Don’t call me babe,” Nina said, pulling a face. “I’m never sleeping with you, so don’t even _try_.”

Hunk leaned over closer to Lance. “Bro.”

“ _Bro_.”

“Do _not_ ,” Shiro said, without an ounce of hesitation. “You both know how annoying that is.”

“Pffffft,” Lance scoffed.

“So, what did you mean by family background in magic?” Allura asked, drawing the conversation back in. “Was there more than one form?”

“Absolutely,” Nina said. “Keep in mind, when Sol and I met, they were living in New Orleans, which means a fairly different magical community than where we’re living now in Cali. Add to that my multiracial background, and I ended up with a functional hodgepodge of magical bases to work with.”

Allura blinked. “I don’t know anything about this… New Orleans.”

Nina bit her lip. “Okay, so my mom is actually from India. Both of her parents were practicing, but one practiced a traditional form of magic that was local to the village she grew up in, while the other practiced the modern version of a form that was heavily influenced and regulated by the British back when India was a British colony. So my mom knew bits of both, and my grandparents were pretty eager to teach me when I started showing interest.”

“My dad’s side of the family was local to New Orleans, and they were both practicing local forms. Grandma’s black, and was practicing mostly Louisiana Voodoo, but had working knowledge of a few other forms of magic that had been developed and modified by black slaves that had been brought to the US a few centuries ago. Lots of stuff that came from Dahomeyan Vodun, and I think she _knew_ Catalan fettileria but didn’t practice it because the cultural background was so different that she felt it was appropriation. Grandpa was… technically mixed? But he identified as indigenous, without getting into too much detail, and all his magic reflected that. They were pretty happy to teach me too, because… well, because I’m _really_ good at it.”

Nina shrugged. “So I ended up with a fairly mixed background, both culturally and magically, and it meant I had a pretty solid base to work from when I got to college and started learning a more standardized, modern American form of magic, which was like… 50% Victorian England, 25% Ancient Greek and Roman, and 25% bastardized bits and pieces of other magic systems.”

“Kind of like the English language itself,” Lance said cheerfully.

“You’re not… wrong,” Nina allowed. “Anyway, did my degree with a double major in matrix magics and chemistry, started doing a lot of magi-tech stuff, and that’s basically what I’ve been doing since.”

“And the part where I come in is that we lived a few houses down from each other when I was growing up in New Orleans, and after we realized we were both magicals, we kind of just… started hanging out? She really liked following around Tía Rosa, for obvious reasons.”

“The woman knows her magitech analyses,” Nina said. “She did more to teach me about the ways the two intersect, especially in regards to standardized American magic, than anyone else did until college.”

“Wait, so you two have known each other _how_ long?” Shiro asked.

“Over fifty years at this point,” Nina said. “I think we met when I was seven?”

“I was, like, five, so yeah.” Marisol nodded.

“…if it’s not rude to ask…” Shiro started, and then Nina snorted.

“I don’t look my age, but haven’t said anything to indicate I’m anything other than human?” Nina guessed. When Shiro nodded, she continued. “I’m not. I was born human and technically, I still am; I’m just immortal, too, and the greying hair is pretty much the only sign of my age.”

“How?” Keith asked. “Lance hasn’t really gone into specifics all that often, so none of us really know more than a few random facts about… the whole supernatural community thing.”

“…I’m a good date, honestly.” Nina shrugged. “Marisol managed to land my lesbian ass a night out with _Hecate._ ”

“…who?” Allura asked.

“Greek goddess of witchcraft,” Marisol explained. “I mean, whether or not they’re actually gods, what qualifies as a god, etcetera, is pretty hotly debated, especially by religious types? But they’re really powerful, kind of egotistic, definitely immortal, and if you make one happy they’ll probably do you a favor.”

“Like the fae, but more predictable and fewer in number,” Lance said cheerily.

“The fae are… volatile,” Marisol said. “I don’t like interacting with them.”

“Yeah, if I’d gotten immortality from _them_ , it would probably be some double-edged sword, like they’d steal the last few years of my life every once in a while, leaving me young but with no memory of the past few years, or any sign of it on my body.” Nina made a face. “I’ve seen the effects of a fae-induced de-aging, and it’s… disturbing. No memory of the would-be-future, no scars or muscle mass that were gained during the years they stole, nothing.”

“Useful in some cases, but usually used as a sort of… punishment,” Marisol said.

“Or a trophy,” Nina muttered. “In my case, though, I just got immortality from Hecate, who was feeling pretty chill and helpful that day, and basically just gave me some extreme longevity where the only sign would be my hair. I can still die, but I don’t get sick and I don’t age, and I’m lucky in ways that I wasn’t before.”

“Because you managed to entertain Hecate for a night,” Marisol said. Then she sang, because she was apparently a little shit. “ _What can I say except ‘You’re Welcome!’”_

“Ugh,” Nina said, making a face. “Really? Is that really necessary?”

“Hey, Moana is a _classic_. Don’t you remember being excited for it to come out? We watched it in theaters _together_ , not even three feet tall and—”

“And you singing that song is you being annoying,” Nina said flatly. “Or would you rather _be shiny?”_

For a moment, everything was glitter and gold.

And then the illusion that Nina has tossed up shattered and fell, revealing a pouting Marisol.

“You’re mean.”

“Only when you push me, darling.”

o.o.o.o.o

“I’m glad they’re having fun,” Shiro said.

Hunk looked up from where he was focused on a mixing bowl, filled with ingredients they’d picked up from space and a handful of spices that his moms had sent. Shiro expected that he was going to love it, but that the Alteans were probably going to reject it, given how many Earth foods were apparently poisonous to them. It definitely looked like there was curry powder in whatever Hunk was making, which meant the Alteans would be avoiding capsaicin poisoning.

“What?” Hunk asked.

“The, ah, the visitors. Marisol and Nina. And Lance. And Pidge and Allura, I guess?” Shiro shrugged. “They’re doing alright.”

Hunk turned away from where he was working to look at Shiro, frowning. “Is, uh, something wrong?”

“Not wrong, just…” Shiro sighed. “Unnerving, I guess. We haven’t really had more humans than the five of us on here. Or, well, people from Earth, since Lance’s sister isn’t human.”

“You can call her by her name, you know,” Hunk said.

“My point,” Shiro said, “was that I’m not… very used to being around people other than the team. Haven’t really had that option in a long time.”

Hunk frowned and, after a moment, stepped closer to put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“It’s a little Twilight Zone,” Shiro admitted. “I got used to the Kerberos crew. Then I got used to being mostly alone at the Arena. Then I got used to Voltron. And now we’re… connecting with Earth again. Bringing on people for more than a few hours, not allies or anything, just friends and family. Hanging out. It’s… it shouldn’t make me uncomfortable, but I look at the fact that there are people from home that _aren’t_ part of the team, and I feel like I’m in a dream.”

Hunk looked down at his hands and twisted them in his apron for a moment. He was going to have to wash his hands to go back to cooking after touching Shiro’s shoulder like that, but… “Do you need a hug? O-or to go to another room? Or to talk to one of them one-on-one so they seem more like real people?”

Shiro laughed at that, a soft, breathless chuckle. “I appreciate it, Hunk, but I think I’m just going to need some time. I’ll get used to it eventually.”

“Not a bad headspace?” Hunk asked carefully.

“No, not bad. Just… one that I haven’t been in for a while,” Shiro said, and then looked over with a grin. “I wouldn’t say no to that hug, though.”

Hunk smiled and spread his arms wide. “C’mere, buddy.”

Shiro closed his eyes and shook his head as he stepped forward and hugged Hunk back. It was a bit weird, because for the past year or so, Hunk had gotten used to hugging tiny little twigs like Lance and Pidge and Keith, who were all shorter than him and didn’t really have a whole lot of muscle or fat. They were all hard angles and bones that felt like they’d snap if he squeezed too hard. Shiro, on the other hand, was a dorito person, and actually an inch or two taller than Hunk, which meant a very different hugging experience. On board the ship, probably only Coran was close to this kind of shape and size.

“You need to put on some subdermal fat,” Hunk said after a moment, not bothering to pull away. “I know the media tells you that defined abs are the epitome of health, but those bodybuilder types are usually dehydrated and malnourished by the time they take pictures or do contests.”

“I was in prison,” Shiro said mildly. “Getting a lot of exercise and not a lot of food.”

“Okay, but you aren’t _now,”_ Hunk protested. “You need to eat more.”

“I can help!” Marisol’s voice came from much closer than expected.

Hunk pulled away from the hug and turned to look at her, where she’d taken a perch sitting on a counter (the one he _wasn’t_ using to cook). It took a few moments to click. “I keep forgetting you have a medical degree.”

“It’s about thirty years old at this point, but it was the first one I got, and I’m glad to have it,” Marisol said, swinging her legs back and forth. “I’d have to check the dates on a few things, but I think I’m still legally allowed to be a general practitioner.”

“Lance, I’m judging you,” Pidge said. “Your sister’s a _doctor_.”

“Pidge? Shut up. Please.” Lance punched her in the shoulder, and Hunk winced. Mostly on Lance’s behalf. “She’s old. I’m seventeen. She was already done with two degrees in separate fields by the time I was born.”

Pidge opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut with a clicking noise as her teeth collided. “Um. Sorry?”

Lance ruffled her hair. “You’re a genius at your computer, but you’re not the best at people, huh, short shit?”

“I’m not _that_ short! I still have time to grow!”

Hunk diverted his attention back to Shiro and Marisol, who appeared to be having a stare-off.

“Um,” he interrupted, in an attempt to diffuse the tension. “She’s… not actually a nutritionist, if that helps.”

“Can’t stay a dorito forever, Shirogane,” Marisol said. “Seriously, I’d be worried for you if I didn’t know that Hunk was definitely following his moms’ example when it comes to feeding people.”

“Mari,” Hunk sighed.

“A true gourmand,” Marisol said, grin teasing. “Seriously, though, he’s not wrong. You need to add some fat to your body, not just muscle. The padding is good for you.”

“As much as I appreciate the concern, I’m fine. I eat as much as I need to satisfy myself when I’m hungry, and last I checked, that’s all I really need to do,” Shiro said, stepping back and putting his hands up in what was maybe supposed to be a placating gesture.

Hunk shared a look with Marisol. He offered, after a moment, “I can talk about adjusting recipes before you go?”

“Works for me,” Marisol said, grinning a little wider. “He’s not that bad…”

“Not that bad,” Shiro repeated flatly, crossing his arms. “What a compliment.”

“If I said all the thoughts running through my head, you’d be redder than your friend’s jacket, pretty boy,” Marisol drawled, tilting her head to the side. “Which reminds me…”

“We’re taking Mari and Nina over to the training deck for a bit of dancing,” Lance chimed in. He stepped forward and leaned against the counter, locking his elbows and presumably standing up on his tiptoes. He grinned. “We have a song in mind, but it’s a lot more fun if we’ve got someone to… use as a prop.”

“Feeling up to it, pretty boy?” Marisol asked, leaning forward, her own elbows locked as she grinned at Shiro. Her eyebrows were high and taunting.

“What happens if I say no?” Shiro asked.

“I pout and ask Nina to do it,” Marisol said promptly. “I mostly just want to see how red you get, honestly.”

“Why would I get red?” Shiro asked, with just a hint of defensiveness.

Hunk bit his lip, because he already knew how this was going to go. Shiro liked to be the level-headed one in charge, but when lives weren’t on the line, he was just as likely to rise to a challenge as Keith or Lance.

“People always get a little red when I’m the one flirting, Shirogane.” Marisol tilted her head and smiled. “Wanna see if you can keep a straight face?”

He eyed her for a long moment, and then turned on his heel and headed for the door. “Let’s do this.”

Marisol cackled for a moment and hopped down from the counter.

“You’re awful,” Hunk told her.

“Bitch please, I’m fabulous. Right, Nina?”

“I don’t care.”

o.o.o.o.o

Keith started laughing almost as soon as the song started, while Shiro made a face.

_The demon queen of high school has decreed it._

“You have to admit that it’s accurate,” Nina told them. “They’re both a little dead inside, in the literal sense. Kinda part vampire and all that.”

“It’s one of the only musicals I know,” Keith admitted freely. “So Shiro knows it, too, and this is going to be hilarious.”

Marisol and Lance were in the middle of the room, not touching and barely even looking at each other. Their dancing was mostly back to back, and they both looked mostly serious for the moment.

That was going to change soon.

_Wait, here’s an option that I like._

Keith crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall with a grin, mostly ignoring the fact that Shiro did the same thing a moment later with a sigh. He kept his eyes on Lance, waiting for the moment that the siblings snapped their heads towards Keith and Shiro with matching grins. He cocked an eyebrow as Lance came closer, still dancing, and Marisol headed for Shiro.

_I’m in your yard, I’m a dead girl walking!_

Keith didn’t try to keep the grin off of his face as Lance put a finger under his chin and took his wrist. The next few lines passed quietly with the dialogue, and then took an… interesting turn.

“Wow,” Pidge said, drawing out the word like it was made of taffy. “It’s like the universe’s weirdest standing lap dance. In unison. What the fuck.”

_Tonight I’m yours, I’m a dead girl walking!_

Lance only stayed in place for a moment longer after that, and then backflipped away from Keith at the same time as Marisol. It had already been obvious that they’d choreographed this, but that had only made it more apparent. They got back to dancing without the human (and half-galra) props, and Keith took a moment to note that they were mouthing along with the words. They never acknowledged the other, as though the dance had been choreographed for a single person, and had just been repurposed as a duo for the moment.

Keith snuck a glance at Shiro. His expression was entirely flat and unaffected, which would have been believable if not for the fact that there actually _was_ a noticeable blush on his face. Keith turned back to the Álvarez siblings and coughed into his fist to hide his laughter.

 The rest of the song passed in a similar way, and ended with Lance pressed up against Keith again.

There was heavy breathing as silence overtook the room, and Keith let his features settle into a smirk. “That was hot.”

“Thanks.”

“When did you choreograph that?”

“Roberto was doing some exhibition thing in a few places to promote his dance studio the summer before we left, and I offered to help when we were on leave,” Lance explained. “So did Mari. The sexier parts weren’t happening during the show, though, we just made that up in our downtime because it fit the song.”

Keith nodded for a moment and then leaned forward to kiss Lance. It didn’t last very long, and there wasn’t any tongue, mostly because of Pidge’s exaggerated gagging noises. He pulled back with a smile.

“Wanna do a private show la—”

“And that’s enough!” Hunk yelled, loud enough to both cut Keith off and startle Lance into taking a step away. “You know the rules, Keith.”

“…yeah,” Keith sighed, but snuck a hand into the back pocket of Lance’s jeans and squeezed anyway, getting a laugh out of his teammate as he joined Keith in leaning against the wall. Keith looked over at Shiro again. “You okay there?”

Marisol had long since stepped, back, but Shiro still looked like a very unimpressed tomato.

“Well… he kept a straight face,” Lance said.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Marisol said, patting Shiro’s cheek. She didn’t look away as she kept speaking. “Also, Lance? Your splits on that back walk-over need work.”

Lance pouted and huffed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Keith glanced over at the others. Coran was nowhere to be seen, and Hunk seemed to have disappeared, but Pidge had pulled Nina into a conversation on the science behind magic, and Allura… was looking right at Lance with a familiar hungry look in her eyes.

Well, Keith supposed he knew what the three of them were going to be doing that night.

o.o.o.o.o

“Seriously, though. Shirogane. What your body considers ‘fine’ isn’t normal. You adapted to those years in prison, and it means your body thinks that absolutely terrible status is the norm, so below-average seems like it’s great. Trust me. Eat when and what Hunk tells you to.”

Shiro gave Marisol a flat stare.

“Please?”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll do what I can to get to a healthier state.”

Marisol grinned. “Great! Now I need to go talk to Coran. Apparently the fact that I have a medical degree is important to him? He seemed excited to go over some stuff in that med bay with me before we went home. Nina got corralled by the Princess and Pidge, too.”

“Good luck, I guess.” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “And… thanks. For worrying about me.”

“Sure thing, pretty boy.” Marisol winked and left.

o.o.o.o.o

They were gone by noon the next day.

“…I still can’t believe I missed my own birthday.”

“We’ll get you belated presents, short shit.”

“…thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't name a specific tribe for Nina's grandfather because I was having trouble figuring out what would be likeliest, and also found out that there were (and are) high degrees of intertribe admixture? So... I was thinking Chitimacha or Choctaw, but didn't want to specify in-text because I'm not _entirely_ sure how to approach the subject, and the multi-racialism of Nina's background was what I was focusing on, more than specifics. If you happen to be of native descent and feel like weighing in, feel free. I'm flexible and willing to go back and edit if it would make the story better.
> 
> I did try to do research on Voodoo and other forms of magic that are common in New Orleans. I won't be going into any detail on it, but I wanted to make sure that I didn't make any rude offhand comments in-text. Dahomeyan Vodun is still practiced as a religion by a large number of people in some parts of Africa, and several of the belief systems practiced by descendants of the African diaspora to the Americas, including Louisiana Voodoo, are derived from it.
> 
> Ultimately, a major reason why I wrote Nina's backstory as being so varied was that I wanted to acknowledge the fact that there are many forms of magic that are believed in by people all over the world, and the kind we see in fiction from England and the USA is not the only kind of magic that is present in the universe I've created.  
> ...I saw a lot of posts about how JK Rowling fucked up with Ilvermory, erasing local cultures with their own forms of magic in favor of a Hogwarts copy-paste, and went "I want to do better."
> 
> Also, the friendship in a nutshell:
> 
> Marisol: *enters wearing a raggedly-cut backless shirt*  
> Lance: Where did you get that?  
> Marisol: I ran out of backless shirts, so I cut the backs out of all the other ones.  
> Lance: ... _why?_  
>  Marisol: Because Nina is like 85% of my impulse control and she wasn't there.  
> Nina: I left for _five minutes_.
> 
> (Keith only knows two musicals in detail: Heathers and Wicked.)


	29. Venus' Car and Lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balmeras and flying and snuggles, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a rather badly thought-out joke that shows Lance being callous to his friends' worries because he just... forgets that they don't automatically remember he can do incubus-specific magics

 

“Well, we did give… _Nina_ most of the spares,” Allura sighed. “It _would_ be prudent to revisit the Balmera.”

“Yes!” Hunk fist-pumped.

Lance rolled his eyes at the celebratory hug he got, but hugged back nonetheless. He had his own plans for the Balmera, and he’d be putting them into play as soon as was feasible. Which meant as soon as they landed planet-side, pretty much.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see if Balmerans can eat human food,” Hunk said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Do we have more of those scanners, Coran? Can we set them to see if stuff is poisonous to Balmerans?”

“Absolutely!” Coran said, and then spun on his heel and walked out of the room. “Follow me!”

Hunk did exactly that, leaving Lance to lean back against the table. He thought better of it after a moment and slid into a chair. Seconds later, Pidge came over, lifted his arm, and plopped down sideways on his lap.

“Um.” He blinked down at her. “Hi?”

“You gave me too many hugs. Now I’m addicted. You’ve ruined me.” Pidge let her head fall to the side, slumping against Lance’s chest. “Also, I’m tired.”

“Sleep more, short shit,” Lance snorted, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close. He rested his chin on top of her head and hummed. “Got any plans once we’re planetside?”

“I want to see if I can get a bunch of the smaller crystals to practice magic with,” Pidge said. “I mean, I know I apparently don’t have any inherent in me or whatever, but apparently I can do some matrix stuff if I have a power source? So… I figured I could do that. No idea how to trade quintessence, though. Allura’s going to be feeding in a lot to take what the Castle needs, but that’s for the Castle, not my hobbies.”

“I could do it,” Lance offered. “I mean, I don’t have as much as she does, or Coran, but I know how to control it well enough to do this. I could get you a handful to practice with.”

Pidge relaxed a little. “Thanks. I thought maybe, but… didn’t really know how to ask.”

Lance ruffled her hair.  “Sure thing.”

“What about you?” Pidge asked. “Other than helping me out, what are you going to do?”

“Fly,” Lance said with a sigh. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had an open space to just _fly?_ The training deck is great and all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not exactly an open space.”

“Can I film you?” Pidge asked.

“…sure, but don’t distribute it once we’re back home,” Lance said, feeling something twist in his gut. “I still don’t know how to handle all of… that.”

“We’ve been telling our allies that you’re not human, but… we can’t actually make that information public back on Earth, can we?” Pidge asked. “You’re going back in the magic closet once we get home.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s going to be _hell_ to control, as far as information leaks go,” Pidge said, biting her lip. “We haven’t told _that_ many people, have we?”

“The Blade knows. The Balmerans are going to know. Ryner knows, but I’m not sure about the rest of Olkarion,” Lance said, pressing his cheek down against Pidge’s head. “Most of the governments on Earth have supernatural departments, and the governments are going to be the first ones making overtures to space, so we can let them handle all of… that.”

 “Giving someone else all the responsibility, then?” Pidge asked.

“Absolutely,” Lance said, not even trying to deny it. “What else did you expect?”

“Honestly, at this point? I have no idea,” Pidge sighed. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

“On me?”

“Are you really going to make me leave?”

“…nope.”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance didn’t go outside with everyone else when the Castle landed on the Balmera. He knew that Hunk and Allura were looking forward to seeing Shay, and that Keith was probably going to try to challenge Rax to an arm wrestling competition (which he was probably going to lose, though Shiro and Hunk probably had a smidgen of a chance; Allura and Coran would probably win outright). He wasn’t entirely sure what Pidge’s plan was, other than the crystals, but he had a feeling that she’d find a way to keep herself entertained.

“Do try to avoid hurting yourself,” Coran said, looking up from the controls as Lance passed him on his way to the upper floors. “Those balconies don’t have the safest railings.”

“Incubus,” Lance said with a smile, pointing to his back. He’d left behind his jacket in his room, and was wearing only a backless grey spandex turtleneck at the moment. Coran raised an eyebrow, but his expression cleared after a moment as he realized what Lance meant.

“Ah. Well then. Enjoy yourself, Lance.”

“I will!”

Lance didn’t waste any more time as he headed for the highest parts of the Castle of Lions. The balconies were rarely used, even though they were as lovingly crafted as the rest of the ship. They weren’t very clean, since Lance and Coran had never gotten around to cleaning them, despite the fact that they’d been the only frequented part of the ship that had been exposed to the elements on Arus. That said, they spent most of their time in space. There wasn’t a lot of use for the balconies unless the localized force fields were activated to keep the air in, and those weren’t high on the list of priorities. Even after over half a year, there were still more important things on the ship that required maintenance first.

Of course, now that they _were_ planetside, or at least Balmeraside, the force fields didn’t matter, because there was an atmosphere. And when there was an atmosphere, especially one that was almost as thick as the one on Earth, Lance could fly.

He made his way out onto the balcony, bit his lip for a moment in consideration, and then turned and faced the way he’d came, looking up. He was not, in fact, allowed to climb the outside of the castle. But Lance was a demon, and that meant that he liked to get to the highest place possible and _perch._

So that was exactly what he did. Physics didn’t really affect him the normal way anyway, so hopping up and scaling the outside of the Castle until he reached the highest point available wasn’t all that hard. He sat up there for a few long, long minutes, closing his eyes and letting the wind flow past him. He stayed human at first, and then slowly leaned forward, knees almost up to his shoulders as he planted his hands between his legs, and shifted. He kept his wings tucked in to avoid catching the wind as his body settled into demon form, and he felt a curl of warm satisfaction as his body registered what he was doing.

Perching was normal for almost any kind of demon, but Lance doubted anyone on the team realized just how integral it was to his being. It wasn’t _mandatory_ , the way blood was, or the way sex would have been if he were a full-blooded incubus. It was still part of him, though, something his body reveled in when he did it, because of what he could only call instinct.

Lance opened his eyes and stood up, balancing as well as he could on the spire, which was admittedly fairly well. He bent his knees, leaned forward until he started falling, and leapt for open space.

His wings snapped open, catching the air, and Lance laughed as the wind whipped past his face. With a whoop, he did a few loops, doing all his best stunts, and swung around spire after spire.

Far below, Lance could make out the shapes of his friends, and after nearly half an hour of gliding with intermittent attempts at stunts, he went high and curled his wings in.

He grinned as he heard the slight note of panic as people yelled at him to _“Stop, oh my god, you’re going to hurt yourself!”_

He did not, in fact, stop. He considered flaring his wings and pulling out of the dive, but he had another idea that was much more fun for him, personally, and that involved _not stopping_.

Lance burst into smoke just before he hit the ground, and then pulled himself together to demon form again.

He was utterly unharmed, and absolutely laughing his fool head off.

“You _asshole!”_ Pidge screeched. “Don’t scare us like that!”

“I know what I’m doing!” Lance protested, still giggling. “C’mon, it wasn’t that—ow! Ow! Shiro, Pidge is hitting me!”

“Pidge, stop hitting Lance. Lance… don’t do that again unless you tell us what you’re going to do first.” Shiro sighed and closed his eyes. With his head drooping and his hands on his hips, he looked like every exasperated parent Lance had ever seen on a television set. “You actually did have us all worried for a moment.”

“Not me,” Hunk said from where he stood next to Shay. “I’ve seen him pull this before.”

“Bro,” Lance said, putting a hand to his chest.

“Do _not_ ,” Keith said, before Hunk could respond.

“We don’t need another bropocalypse,” Pidge agreed. She wrapped her arms around Lance and squeezed. “Seriously, though, don’t do that again. Or at least fucking _warn_ us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance chuckled, ruffling her hair. “I’ll do that.”

“Lance?” Allura said, and when he looked up, she fixed him with a hard stare. “This isn’t a joking matter. Don’t scare us like that just for a laugh.”

Lance felt something inside him twist and cool down, guilt finally making its way in. “…right.”

o.o.o.o.o

“You know,” Keith said, getting Lance to turn his way, readjusting how his chin lay on his arms. “If you asked me five years ago where I expected to end up by now, this wouldn’t have been my answer.”

“Because aliens, because demon, or because girl?” Lance asked, pointing to both Keith and Allura, then himself, then just Allura. “Or because space? Or because castle? Or because—”

“Yes to all of them,” Keith said flatly, giving him an unimpressed look. “Yes to _all_ , because my life is somehow weirder than it should be.”

“All of our lives are weird,” Lance assured him. He heard Allura snort outside of his range of sight, and grinned.

“Lance, you’re not the one who found out he was half alien,” Keith said. “Or who was a desert hermit. All of our lives are weird, sure, but I don’t think it’s a lot to say that mine is a step _weirder_ than the rest. Yours is probably pretty normal for supernaturals, right?”

“I mean… not really?” Lance shifted in place a bit, tail lashing. “But that’s mostly my sister’s fault.”

Keith quirked one eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“There was a blessing. Or a curse. Drunk blessing that might have been a curse to anyone who wasn’t already used to being in weird situations, I guess?” Lance shrugged. “Sometimes the people she’s close to get affected.”

“Oh, I think I’d like to hear that story,” Allura mused.

“Ask her next time she shows up,” Lance suggested. “Seriously, I’m half convinced that she’s the reason Hunk and I even ended up here.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have that excuse,” Keith huffed. “Neither does Shiro, or Pidge, or the rest of us.”

“And all of our lives are pretty much as weird as yours, not counting the half-alien thing,” Lance promised. “The universe is just a weird place.”

“I spent ten thousand years in a cryopod, Keith,” Allura reminded him. “I can shapeshift, despite other species being incapable of such, am stronger than most species our size, and recently discovered that I have magic while battling the evil survivor of the downfall of my planet. I would say that qualifies as strange, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess…” Keith muttered, and then pressed closer to Lance. “I’m cold.”

“Mm… gimme a sec.” Lance shifted back to human and rolled over in place, pulling Keith to lie almost entirely on top of him. He grabbed Allura’s comforter and pulled it over all three of them, right up to the neck.

“Better,” Keith mumbled, pressing his face into Lance’s neck, one leg slipping between Lance’s as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

“You’d think the paladin of the fire lion would be less affected by the cold,” Lance mused, reaching up to run his fingers through Keith’s hair.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work like that,” Allura laughed, reaching up to let her hand join Lance’s in playing with Keith’s hair.

“You’re both terrible,” Keith said.

“Not my fault you have a mullet,” Lance said cheerfully. “It’s almost as much fun to play with as those satellite dishes you call ears. If they weren’t so kitty-cat pointy, I’d be asking if the Galra have a chinchilla-based subspecies. Or, oooooh, Abyssinian cats! Devon Rex! Oriental cats, Siamese, Singapura!”

“Why the _fuck_ do you know so many cat breeds?” Keith asked, half-laughing.

“Mom brought one home a few years ago and I ended up doing way more research on cat care than I had to,” Lance said. Then he felt his eyes widen. “Fennec foxes!”

“I don’t believe any Galra subspecies are based on animals from Earth,” Allura said. “Although I’m sure I’d enjoy seeing what these creatures look like. You seem rather excited.”

“They’re adorable,” Lance said with conviction. “ _So_ adorable.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Allura said.

“Keith.”

“Hm?”

Lance paused his hand. “Ears.”

“No.”

“The fur would help you feel warmer.”

“I’m not getting up just to grab a crystal, Lance,” Keith said, closing his eyes and completely missing out on Lance’s _honestly lovely pout_. “Besides, here and now isn’t really the place or time.”

“…that’s fair,” Lance admitted. Not the best idea with Allura here.

There was a moment of silence.

“I could provide the quintessence,” Allura offered.

Lance and Keith both turned their heads to look at her.

“But you said…” Keith frowned.

“I know what I said.” Allura ran her fingers through his hair again. “In this moment, I am unbothered.”

“…okay, then,” Keith said, closing his eyes and flipping over the hand closer to Allura so she could slip hers into it.

Lance felt a grin curl over his face as Keith’s face turned purple, along with the rest of him. A tail whipped around underneath the covers as it grew out, until Keith got some control over it. Lance couldn’t help but coo as Keith’s ears flicked about, reaching up to play with them.

“You’re ridiculously easy to please,” Keith accused.

“You’re just _really cute_ , buddy,” Lance said.

“Lance? We just had sex. A threesome, actually. It’s a pretty common facet of our lives at this point.” Keith opened featureless yellow eyes and stared at him. “You don’t need to call me _buddy_.”

“Keith… Keith, that’s _gay_.”

“Oh my god,” Keith groaned, burying his face in Lance’s neck again. “Why am I friends with you?”

“Because I’m amazing and you get to have sex with an _incubus_ ,” Lance said. “Also, I’m going to quote something just to be annoying.”

“Maybe don’t?” Keith suggested.

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain, you ratchet ska—ow! Keith!” Lance whined. “The sex is over, no more biting!”

“You were being deliberately annoying,” Keith huffed after he stopped pinching the skin of Lance’s neck between his teeth. “I didn’t even bite that hard.”

“Galra teeth, Keith,” Lance reminded him. “You may not have broken the skin, but it still _hurt_.”

“…shit, I forgot.”

“You’re both terrible,” Allura sighed, ruffling Keith’s hair and ears. “Go to sleep, both of you.”

“And you?” Keith asked. “What are you going to do?”

“Most likely attempt to do the same. I may not need as much sleep as you do, but I still require _some_.” Allura readjusted in the bed a little. “Besides, I’ll be waking up before you do, and even until I fall asleep, I most certainly have something to do here.”

“Play with Keith’s ears?” Lance guessed.

“I would have previously hesitated to call _any_ Galra cute,” Allura said. “I wouldn’t call Galra grotesque either, in most cases, or even unattractive on occasion, but I’d have hesitated to call any Galra _cute_ , specifically. That said, Keith…”

“You’ve melted the ice queen’s frozen heart,” Lance whispered. “By being a cute widdle cat b— _stop biting me._ ”

“I didn’t even use teeth that time!” Keith protested. “I just pinched with my lips!”

“…huh. Guess I must be more sensitive than usual,” Lance mused.

“Go to sleep, both of you,” Allura said sternly. “That’s an order from your princess.”

“Yeah?” Lance leered at her. “Gonna enforce that?”

“I’ll have you cleaning the pods again if you don’t,” she said flatly, and Lance shut his eyes in a hurry.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Keith chuckled, and pressed his nose into Lance’s neck again. He started purring as Allura kept petting his head, a steady trickle of quintessence passing through his right hand where she held it. Lance’s hand drifted down to lay across Keith’s waist, resting just above his tail.

…sleep came quickly, for the boys.

o.o.o.o.o

“We’ve received information that places both Lotor and Haggar here at Planet Duraegos in three quintants’ time,” Kolivan said, one hand motioning in such a way that it sent the hologram of the planet in question spinning. “From what we can gather, they are there in preparation for an extensive strategy and tactics meeting with several of their highest-ranking generals. If we can sabotage the meeting somehow, we could remove several of our greatest threats at once.”

Lance leaned forward against the console, arms crossed where they rested and shoulders hunched up in an oddly relaxed manner. “Security?”

“Extensive.”

“Skill level?” Hunk asked.

“At least Sendak’s, to go by an enemy you’ve already fought. Or mine, for something more recent.”

“Length of the stay?” Keith asked.

“Several quintants, but they’re all departing at different times.”

“External sensing arrays?” Pidge asked.

“Presumably among the strongest they have, much like the security.”

“Our chances of actually getting in to do damage?” Shiro asked.

“Most would say they’re minimal.”

“And you?” Allura asked.

Kolivan gave them all a long look. “I’d say that you seem to make a habit of surprising me, and that I wouldn’t be surprised if you all burned the building down regardless of what everyone else expected.”

“Well,” Coran said. “Let’s make a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to drive home the point that even if Keith came first, Allura's just as important to Lance in this three-way FWB situation. He's friends with both. He's sleeping with both. Some people have been viewing it as Klance+sometimes Allura, which... isn't really what I'm going for. She's an equal partner, not a side character. She may not join in on the bickering as much, but she's there and she's invested, and they're invested in her too (yes, even Keith, if only as a friend).
> 
> This chapter is 90% snuggles. There's a reason for that, but it's mostly about something IRL that's happening today. Enjoy the fluff anyway.
> 
> ANYWAY LOOK WHO'S ABOUT TO HIT TEN THOUSAND HITS.  
> (Anyone wanna bet we'll hit a thousand comments and kudos apiece by the time I'm done?)


	30. Fraxinella and Milfoil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance, you fucking drama queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: on-screen assassination, a fuckton of fire, an attempted hostage situation, some derision against irl forms of magic from Pidge. Also more demon stuff and religion, though I don't expect that to really bother anyone, if you've made it this far.

“I’m not actually all that comfortable with this, guys,” Lance said, shifting minutely in place to adjust his aim. He was once again on the roof of a building next to one inhabited by Galra high command, but it was close to midnight instead of high noon this time, or at least the local equivalent of such. “I mean, I get it, that it’s a war and unsportsmanlike conduct is basically to be expected, but still.”

“We’re sure none of these guys are Blade?” Pidge asked from the roof of the building that was, in fact, inhabited by Galra high command. Lance could spot her, but only because he knew what to look for from his perch several floors above and across the street.

“Kolivan confirmed that nobody in that room is one of his,” Shiro said. He, Keith, and Hunk were milling about on street level, and Keith had shifted to his Galra form while wearing a tourist disguise… kind of. He was actually in full armor, but Pidge’s most recent foray into holographic technology, paired with some stability spells from Lance, meant that he at least looked to be a stereotypical civilian Galra tourist.

(“There are Galra civilians?” Keith asked.)

(“Yeah,” Hunk said. “Remember Sal?”)

(“…who?”)

(“Restaurant guy who chained me to do dishes and then had me cook when the robot broke down.”)

(“…right, that guy.”)

Pidge had been a little concerned about the spell, since it had resembled the kind of ‘herbs and salt new age bullshit’ she’d only ever heard of being used by hipsters, but Lance had assured her it would work.

“Let me put it this way: if it doesn’t work, you know your tech is sound. If it does work, then lucky us! Either way, it’ll more good than harm… and also, it’s really rude to call it ‘new age bullshit,’ because that’s disrespecting the beliefs of a lot of people. Like, a _lot_. Besides, they got those structures from somewhere, you know? And even the ones that don’t have access or knowledge to do things in a way with visible effects, they sometimes get the magic to work just be believing enough… or even by not. Did you know that ‘new age bullshit’ tends to work best for the skeptics that approach it scientifically? They’re the ones that have to be convinced. And magic knows that.”

Pidge hadn’t complained much after that.

“Alright, switching to Galra soldier uniform,” Keith said quietly. Lance couldn’t see him from his position, but that could only mean good things, since Keith had to have ducked out of sight for this. “I still think we should have used a Blade member for infiltration. I’m too scrawny to be an adult Galra.”

“Too scrawny for adult human, too,” Lance mocked.

“Fuck off.”

“I’ve activated my false Galra armor as well,” Allura said. “Shiro? Hunk?”

“Checking a mirror to see if it worked,” Shiro said, sounding a little strained. “Alright, Hunk and I both look vaguely Galra now. We should be fine to sneak in.”

“Everyone remembers Lakra’s lessons on how the Galra army works, right?” Pidge asked. “You all remember how to fake it?”

“Yes,” Allura said, and the boys echoed her. Lance waited in near-perfect stillness as he listened to the four of them making their way in, feeling a little dead inside for just how _bad_ Allura and Keith were at grifting.

“I know I’m not much better,” Lance said. “But you guys _really_ need to learn how to lie.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Keith growled under his breath, barely loud enough for the sensors to pick up.

“He’s not wrong,” Pidge chimed in. “You and Allura _suck_ at this.”

“Thank God you have Shiro and Hunk there,” Lance said. “Think you can get to the top floors?”

“Need a hacker,” Shiro muttered.

“Just hold your armor up by whatever you need to get into and I’ll tell you how to connect by looking through the video feed on your helmet,” Pidge said. “Keep Keith near the front so you have someone to open doors without suspicion.”

“I’ve got movement on the top floors,” Lance reported, kind of wishing that he had a scope. His armor could zoom in, and without a fisheye effect, but he’d have felt better with a scope on his rifle. Maybe he’d practice a bit with trying to get it to change shape in training. “That’s… definitely Lotor and Haggar. Looks like Narok, Wolran, Serriv, and Falrok, too. I think the others are Illkor, Jivrun, and Huurig, but I can’t get a good look at their faces, and I’m not that good at identifying Galra faces anyway.”

“Better than the rest of us,” Pidge muttered. After another moment, she spoke up. “Okay guys, I’m going to take a moment here to remind you that this building is _government-owned_. It’s not private property; it belongs to the Empire. There are a few civilians doing… fucking I don’t know, kitchen work? Janitorial staff? Whatever, most of the people in there are loyal soldiers, and the building doesn’t belong to a person, so don’t worry too much about collateral damage.”

“Only possible repercussions to worry about are civvies who’d lose their jobs if the building got destroyed or shut down,” Lance clarified. “Which… sucks, but also, this is a war and acceptable losses are unfortunately a thing.”

“Also, they were technically working for the Empire?” Pidge offered. “Shiro, plug the wire into—yeah, right there. Give me five seconds.”

“Minimum wage workers like them don’t really have a lot of options, though,” Lance said. “Like, someone’s going to be desperate enough for cash to take the job no matter how much they might hate the Empire, just because they want a roof over their heads or enough to feed their kids or something like that.”

“…Lance, please stop making this harder than it has to be,” Pidge said stiffly. “This is going to be a lot harder to pull off if you’re reminding us that mostly-innocent people are going to be hurt.”

“I mean, moral utilitarianism and all that?” Lance said, tentative in the moment. “Like, it sucks for the people, but we’re going to be saving a _lot_ of lives if we neutralize Galra high command, even if a few innocents lose their jobs because we wrecked a few floors… or the whole building… hopefully not the whole city…”

“Let’s _not_ wreck a city,” Pidge said. “Let’s avoid that if at all possible.”

“We’re here,” Hunk muttered into his comms. “Also… _chatter._ ”

“Is it really chatter if it’s relevant to the mission?” Lance asked.

“Shoot,” Shiro ordered.

“Right…” Lance sighed, and sighted down his rifle.

(He kind of wished it was at least a proper sniper rifle, something that looked suitably intimidating and somber for assassination work. This form was almost bubbly, a little cute and unintimidating as far as guns went, and while it went a surprisingly long way to helping his morale regarding the war, it felt a little incongruous when all Lance was doing was picking off sitting commanders like tin cans on a fence.)

“Anyone ever watch Hellsing Ultimate Abridged?” Lance asked.

“What?”

“I’m gonna count off in French,” Lance clarified. “So…”

“Stop stalling,” Pidge said.

“We can’t hide out here forever,” Allura hissed.

“Right.” Lance took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and then opened them again as he breathed out. He zeroed in on Narok, presumed to be the most dangerous other than Lotor and Haggar, both of whom had protections against laser fire like Lance’s bayard. He pulled the trigger. “Un.”

Narok slumped forward as the window shattered, and in the shocked silence that followed, Lance picked off probably-Jivrun as well. “Deux.”

Allura burst through the door, already back to looking like her usual self in her usual armor, attacking Haggar directly. Shiro went straight for Lotor, while Keith went for the commanders. Hunk stood back by the door and provided backup, shooting whenever he was sure he wouldn’t hit a teammate and blocking the exit when a commander tried to rush him.

“Trois,” Lance said as Serriv turned his back to the window, hearing his own voice waver a bit. Illkor went down next, a clean shot to the temple after two got blocked by the armor of his bracers. “Quatre.”

“Oh, I get the reference now,” Pidge mumbled. “Brazil. The French guy with the braid and eyepatch.”

“Yep,” Lance said. Wolran got a shot to the neck, followed by one through the eye as he stumbled along the table. “Cinq.”

“Someone just tried to get a call for backup out, but I think I blocked it in time. Be on the lookout for Druids, though, because I have no idea how to block a magical distress beacon,” Pidge warned.

“Too late,” Keith grunted, blocking a punch from Lotor as Shiro tried to get around behind him. With Falrok and Huurig taken out by Hunk’s bayard, that left only Haggar and Lotor. At least, it did for a moment, but Keith was the one to yell out when that was no longer the case. “Shit! Druids!”

Fuck. _Fuck._ Lance couldn’t do anything about a druid, not from this distance. They employed way too much teleportation for that to be safe.

“Lance, cover fire on the end of the room!” Shiro yelled.

That was—right! Okay! Lasers on one end of the room might not hit the druids, but it would herd them towards the hand-to-hand fighters, which would give them a chance, at least.

Lance held down his trigger and didn’t let up on it.

It almost worked, too. One of Haggar’s lightning blasts towards Allura even ended up hitting a druid instead as the teleportation and minimized fighting space meshed poorly with the wide-range attack. It was a lucky moment, something Lance wanted to cheer about, because even one druid less than before meant an easier fight for Voltron.

That said, he didn’t miss it when Lotor vanished.

Lance’s senses were always on high alert during missions. It didn’t make his hearing or sense of smell or even eyesight better than usual, but it did make him more aware of the little things. It made him notice the softest scrape of a shoe against roof grit.

He spun around and faced Lotor, rifle aimed right between the Prince’s eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Lotor’s own gun was aimed right back at him.

“Hello, Paladin.”

He looked almost ethereal in the night. The purple lights of the Galra meeting room had washed him out while still somehow being warm, but the white light of the planet’s moon made him almost glow. Lotor was always pretty, but this was just unfair… and also giving Lance an idea.

“Ill-met by moonlight, fair Lotor,” he said, as calm as he could manage.

“Ill-met indeed,” Lotor said. “You know, I hadn’t expected to run into any of you here. I’d thought the last incident might have left you all a little more… wary.”

“Perchance you’ve forgotten which of us emerged from that conflict unscathed, o prince,” Lance said, his tongue clumsy around the words. He was trying, very hard, to relearn the sort of Shakespearean English that the fae liked best, but it was still clunky at best. Still, most people couldn’t hear it, the awkwardness behind every word, and it lulled people like Lotor into an odd frame of mind that was easier for Lance to take advantage of.

(It made them feel so special, so dazed, so very pretentious, and… well, who was Lance to not take the advantage when presented with the opportunity?)

“A hotel full of smoke, but no other signs of a fire. It’s curious.” Lotor tilted his head, but his aim didn’t waver in the slightest. “Nobody can figure out how it was done.”

“They call me demon, monster of the afterlife, child of the flames and consumer of souls,” Lance said, smiling. “Ok-vari, so they speak of me.”

“Children’s tales,” Lotor dismissed. “And, perhaps, religious nonsense. However you choose to view it, the ok-vari are not _real._ ”

Lance grinned, trying to ignore the sounds of battle behind him. “Such surety, such poise, and yet, you see, you fail to grasp that you are not alone.”

Lotor frowned. “You speak nonsense.”

“I speak the truth,” Lance said, drawing on a sensation of fire and pride to settle in his bones, warping his very self bit by bit. “And yet, perhaps you’d like to see that those that you dismiss, those born of hell and flames and sin, are more than Haggar’s silvered hands have ever wrought, those born and damned.”

Lotor stared.

It wasn’t a pentameter, not really, and there was no rhyme scheme, but it was settling. God, was it settling.

“Methinks I’d like to join the fight, dear prince,” Lance said, heat coursing up his throat like lava and feeding his mood. “Shall we dance?”

“Dance?” Lotor asked, tone scathing. “What next? Shall you try to convince me that my empire is doomed because of those little things you humans call morals?”

(“What a _douchebag_ ,” Pidge muttered. “Lance, do you want me to pull you to the fight? I can shoot my bayard down to you and use that to yank you over to the room where the others are fighting Haggar and the druids?”)

“Yes… Do you know of imps and gremlins?” Lance asked, as Pidge confirmed that she’d taken his confirmation as an answer to her as well. “Of fae and fairies, of werefolk and vampires, of elves and youkai, of La Llorona and the Chir Batti, of jiangshi and vila, of all your pretty stories of things both real and false, that you do dismiss and we who know better… we believe.”

“Faith is nothing. Spirits and gods? Don't make me laugh.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. He started taking a few steps closer to Lotor, building up the fire within him. Quietly, he spoke. “ _San Miguel Arcángel, defiéndenos en la batalla. Sé nuestro amparo compra la perversidad y asechanzas del demonio.”_

(“Are you _praying?”_ Pidge asked. “Are you praying mid-battle out of _spite?”)_

“What are you doing?” Lotor demanded. “What is this?”

 _“Reprímale Dios, pedimos suplicantes, y tú Príncipe de la Milicia Celestial,_ ” Lance kept speaking without pause, his voice even and with a weight that he felt down to his hypothetical soul. Sure, the actual wording was incredibly ironic when he spoke it, and the words sometimes felt like ash on his tongue, but it was a battle prayer, in many ways. _“Arroja al infierno con el divino poder, a Satanás y a los otros espíritus malignos que—”_

“Enough. If you won’t speak sense, then don’t speak at all.” Lotor shot. Lance dodged.

 _“—andan disperses por el mundo para la perdición de las almas,_ ” Lance finished, and pulled his trigger. _“Amen.”_

Lotor was hit, but his armor, or maybe some of Haggar’s magic, absorbed it without effect.

“Are you quite finished?” Lotor demanded.

Lance grinned, and shot right between Lotor’s eyes, three times in quick succession. “Yep!”

As Lotor cursed and stumbled back, grabbing at his eyes, Lance turned on his heel and sprinted for the edge of the rooftop.

“Pidge!”

“Gotcha!” She yelled, and the V-shaped tip of her bayard shot across from one rooftop to the other. Lance could already see that she’d misjudged the angle, but a short burst from his jetpack just after he jumped off took care of that. He didn’t catch the bayard tip, but the cord, and he noted on his way down that Pidge had at least made sure to anchor herself as soon as she’d shot it off. Great. She wouldn’t be pulled off the roof because she was so small.

He turned his attention to the battle—

Aaaaaaand slammed face-first into the wall several stories below, barely avoiding a broken nose as his helmet took most, but not all, of the impact.

Ow.

Fuck.

Fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Pull me up?” He whined.

“Are you okay?” Pidge asked, as her bayard began to retract and pull Lance back up.

“I will be in a moment,” Lance muttered, reactivating his bayard and waiting for the right window. In moments, he was there, and he fired as soon as his bayard cleared the wall, aiming directly for a druid behind Keith.

It… actually somehow hit.

“What the fuck?” Keith demanded, taking one look at the druid and then back at Lance. “How the hell did you make that shot?”

“Practice?” Lance offered, sprinting over and taking a spot behind Keith, right between him and the wall, playing long-range support. "I have an idea, but I need you to do me a favor.”

“What kind of—no!”

Lance didn’t need to ask what Keith was so upset about, because he could see it too:

Lotor had teleported back into the battle, and instead of attacking Shiro or Keith or Allura, had taken a position behind Hunk… and subsequently taken him hostage.

Everyone froze, even Haggar and the druids taking a moment to rest as Shiro and Allura stopped attacking in favor of staring at Hunk and Lotor.

“Let him _go_ ,” Lance demanded, mind already sprinting through plans. His plan would still work, but—actually, it was probably the best option right now.

“I don’t think so,” Lotor said. “Stunning conversationalist though he may be, I do need to neutralize Voltron. Killing a paladin should do the trick, yes?”

“You don’t want to do this, Lotor,” Shiro warned, his arm humming at a higher pitch than usual.

“I’m rather certain I do.”

“Keith,” Lance said through grit teeth. “I’m going to need some help to get myself to full power. Think you can do a trust fall to get me the right environment? Wouldn’t want to disappoint our friends, after all.”

Keith stared at him for a long moment, and then his eyes widened.

He turned for the window and sprinted, throwing himself out without a word.

Silence reigned for a long moment, shock on every face in the room save for Lance’s, and then the Red Lion whooshed past the window.

“Good kitty,” Keith said, sounding a little out of breath. “Let’s light this building up.”

Lance turned to Lotor and grinned, very wide, and pulled off his helmet. “Hey, buddy, remember the fake fire at the hotel?”

Lotor stared at him.

“It’s not going to be that fake this time.”

Red’s jaws opened up, and flames whooshed out. Lance watched as Allura and Shiro set their helmets to zero atmosphere mode, shutting out the flames and heat and smoke.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lotor demanded. “You’ll burn just as we do!”

Lance’s grin grew wider as he pulled off the chest piece of his armor. “You wanna bet?”

Lotor seemed too confused to do anything, but his grip didn’t weaken enough for Hunk to get away. That was fine. Lance would be ready soon, and there was at least enough wiggle room for Hunk to activate his helmet’s mask to avoid breathing in the smoke.

Pidge’s voice came over the building’s PA system. “Please exit the building in an orderly fashion. A very dangerous battle is occurring on the highest levels, which are currently on fire. The rest of the building is expected to follow. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“ ** _Eyes on_ me,**” Lance ordered as he pulled off what was left of his armor, and watched as the Lotor and Haggar's faces snapped his way. “ ** _What made you think it was alright to look away?_** ”

The bodysuit was the last thing to come away, just as Haggar shuddered and broke away from the mild compulsion, dodging Allura’s attack. Now that she’d gotten out of it once, it would be easier for her to do it again, but that was never the goal. Haggar didn’t have experience with Lance’s kind of magic, but she was plenty magical herself, and the weak compulsion hadn’t been meant to do more than distract her. The real target, of course, was Lotor.

Hunk tore away from Lotor, taking advantage of the dazed mental state, and headed for the window.

“Keith, trust fall!” Hunk practically roared. “Allura, Shiro, let’s go!”

“Don’t forget to pick me up!” Pidge called, still on the roof.

Lotor snapped back into awareness. His eyes narrowed, and he focused on Lance. “A pretty trick.”

“ ** _It is, isn’t it?_** ”

“Your friends have abandoned you,” Haggar pointed out, and without any prompt, the two began circling Lance.

He still looked human.

Lance jumped onto the table and spun on the spot, arms wide. He had no idea why the fires weren’t affecting the two, but this was just a normal fire, one that Keith was spreading throughout the building. He tipped his head back, smiled, and _shifted_.

Sharp inhales, not quite gasps, met his ears.

 _**"Darling, they haven't abandoned me to you. They've abandoned you to**_   **me."**

So Lance crouched there, in the middle of the flames that were slowly consuming the building, and smiled as wide as he could with his fangs on display. His mouth opened a little, and his nictating membrane flicked across to protect his eyes from the smoke. Around him, the smoke began to shift colors, the fires gaining a chemical look as various shades of red-orange-yellow were no longer their only color. He flared his wings, leaning forward a little and looking Lotor and Haggar in the eyes.

For the first time, there was a hint of trepidation there. Not only wariness or surprise, but maybe, just maybe, a hint of fear.

“What are you?” Haggar finally demanded.

“Ok-vari,” Lotor whispered, and Lance threw back his head and laughed, standing up straight again.

He threw his hands wide and _pulled_ on the darkest fires inside him. The flames around him began to scream as no fire should, and he could feel the warps in the fabric of space-time that heralded the arrival of hundreds of fire imps. They clustered around the table and his heels, chittering to each other as they examined the dead Galra bodies and the survivors in the room.

Once more, Lance laughed, arms still spread wide, demon form on full display and _thriving._ He grinned as he looked Haggar and Lotor in the eyes again, a cackling roar in his chest.

 

**“T̖̗͇͈̠̲͇̪̅͛ͯ̆̄ͧ̚e͖̬̝̝̺͇̪͑͑l̺̫̺͚̖̥͓ͩͣ̎ͫl̼͈͍̪̏̽͒̉͆ͭ͒ͨ ̜͓͓̳̇ͦm̺̭͈̬̙̘̞̐̈̄̄̓͑ͣ̇e̜̼͖͇̹̎̐̔͑ͬͦ͂́.ͅ.̱͇̝̮͚.̫̞̺̲ ̩̪͉͉̝͓̥̞ͥͤ̍ḧ͓̹̬̬͓̖́ͦ̏̊̌ͨȯ͔͙̟̬̯̘̬̇̀̊̑͊w͉̰͕͇̥͖̋̔̋ͦ̿͗͒͋̑'̥̳̰͇́͒s̯̙̳̟̳̿̅̆̇ ̳̺ͪͧ̓ͪ̔t̩̭̓̓ͪ̚h͈̥̖͚ͫͫ͒ͩ̔̂̆i͔̯͍̗̙̩̇̄̒̚s̗͓̙̈̂̊ͪͨ̎ ̺͔̭̳͈͇̙ͣͥ̇̇f͔̯̙̦͈̳̟̩̀̎̆ͅo͎̭͍̟̼̟͔̩̐̃͛̈ͬͩͮ̌̚r̦͈̟̻̥̭̼͇̋̅͛ͤ̇ͬ͌ ̲ͤ͛ḁ̬͎̩͕̲̲̬͂ͣ͑́ ̳̣͈̯ͪ͛l͔͖̞͕͔͓ͦ̊i̤̥ͤͪͩ͊̉̋̀ͪt̪̗͖̖̘ͬͭ̈́̐̄͗̽t̰͉͓̋̓ͪl̞̹̺̊ͣͣ̋͐̆̀ͦė͙͇̖͍̯̬̰ͧͤ̉ͯ͂ ͓͍̳͚̠̬̖̐̉̄ͣf͓̱̈́ͮͯ͌̂͌̆ì̜̫̳̪̲̈ͯ̒ͅr͍̱͚̺̞̤̙̙ͤ̌̾̇e̙̻̯̠͎̮͍͊̄ͨ͌̄̉́ͣͬ ̙̺̔̔a̞̭̅̃n̲͈̑d̼͙̳̤ͫ̅ͦͯ ͚̳̜̫̲̯͎̭̀̒̇ͪ̿́ḇ͈͖̺̩̓̐̽ͭͯr̪̠̗̓̄̾î͎̩̜͔̪͓̼̱̥̎ͭ͆̐͂̿ͩm͈̮͉̾̅̿͌̇̋̓ŝ̬́̓̂͌͋͒ť͈̻͕̯͂̇̈o̜͈̰̜̗͔ͯ̌ṇ̤̻̦̥͈̈́̀͋͂̽̌̚e͍̬̺͔̺ͬͧ?͕̥̺͈͉͋̔ͫ̍”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SINCE SOME PEOPLE WERE CONFUSED: Lance is wearing boxers and opaque leggings with a hole for his tail. He's not naked, but he is shirtless and barefoot. Okay? Okay.
> 
> The whole "new age bullshit" thing is Pidge, not my personal views. I haven't done magic, but I have friends who dabble (at minimum; some are very dedicated), and it's very strong belief for some people. Much like my view on religion (and this is a religious matter for many; Wicca is a legitimate belief system, after all), my approach is that I don't know and have no way of knowing what the truth is, but if it makes them happy, then so be it. Maybe it works and maybe it doesn't, but it's not really my place to judge the people who believe in it.  
> Lance's lines about skeptics and magic are based on this post: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/161362483270/teawitch-tyrtime-ive-been-looking-w
> 
> The scene with the "shoot people while counting in French" bit is in the third episode of Hellsing Ultimate Abridged. Lance is doing it because assassinating people, even Galra, makes him feel gross inside.
> 
> I had to spend like fifteen minutes straight trying to hunt down the Spanish version of that prayer.  
> (There are two kinds of atheists: the "You do you, so long as it isn't hurting anyone" atheists, and the "Religion is a lie and you're all idiots for believing in it." I did not _intend_ to make Lotor the latter, but it happened anyway.)
> 
> Writing in nothing but iambs for a few lines was... interesting? It looks a little silly to me, tbh, but that's Lance for you. He's trying. (So am I. I need to work on these sections so much, ugh.)
> 
> I love writing this version of Lance, because one minute he's giving a badass speech, and the next he's slamming face first into a wall by accident, and both are entirely in-character.
> 
> I love using "Trust fall" as code for "fling yourself off something really high and wait for a lion to catch you."
> 
> ...Lance is a drama queen. Also very prone to standing on tables. Get DOWN.
> 
> If you want to use a Zalgo text generator (like that last line, meant to indicate Lance's full-demon speech), feel free to visit this site: http://eeemo.net/
> 
> I'm going to have a LOT of fun with the next chapter, and tbh if anyone does art of this fic... demon-form Lance, standing on a table and surrounded by flames would be a great choice.


	31. Snakesfoot and Green Locust Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, Lance, what the _actual fuck?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence (no permanent injuries, but Lance does get hurt a few times), some scenes regarding the possible 'creation of a soul', overuse of Zalgo text (I tried to augment it so that everything was as legible as possible, but it might not quite work if you're reading on mobile or have things set to a larger font size; sorry), some mild sexual content in the final scene (to skip, simply stop reading when Allura enters her room), puns, Satan (not really)

“I grabbed Lance’s uniform on my way out,” Shiro said, dropping it on the floor and moving to stand behind Keith’s chair. Part of him was worrying over Lance, to be sure, but this was Lance’s plan, and he’d talked about his own immunity to fire in demon form before. Surprise flames while in human form would hurt, which explained why he’d been injured by the explosion that Sendak and Haxus had planted, but Lance had more than ample warning right now. He’d be fine. He had to be. “Do we have decent visuals on the situation?”

“Not really,” Pidge said. “The fires are already hot enough to melt the cameras inside.”

“Hunk?” Allura asked. “How far does Lance’s immunity to the flames extend around him?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming his hair won’t be damaged,” Allura said. “But I do need to ask: should we prepare a change of clothes?”

“Oh. _Oh_ , okay, yeah. Nah, his boxers are definitely going to be fine, and his leggings… probably should be? He’s been dressing up with the expectation that going demon might be necessary, so if his clothes burn off, it’s probably intentional.”

There was a long moment of silence, followed by Keith slowly saying, “ _Really._ ”

“Keep it in your pants, Keith,” Pidge said, poking him in the shoulder.

He shrugged. “Lance is probably going to need help getting back to full strength after this. I can wait.”

“Okay, _moving on_ ,” Shiro said, drawing attention back to himself, in pursuit of the goal of ‘ditching this awkward conversation.’ He sighed after a moment, “Assuming the building is on fire enough, and seeing as it looks like most people have left the building now… we’re not really needed here except for picking up Lance.”

“Well,” Allura said, a little hesitant. “I may have an idea.”

Everyone except Keith, who was still focused on flying, turned to look at her.

“Yeah?” Hunk prompted.

Allura licked her lips, bit them, and then said, “Haggar and Lotor are currently occupied with Lance. While I’d prefer to give him backup, I can’t imagine he’s going to be very hurt with the current circumstances. While I’d like to leave at least one or two of us here just in case, there are currently several Galra warships in orbit, and with the commanders and druids all dead…”

“They’re as open to attack as we’re likely to get in the near future,” Pidge realized. “Haggar and Lotor are usually the best their ships have got, but they’re busy here.”

“Can you call Green down from a distance?” Shiro asked, turning to Pidge.

She shook her head. “Hunk and I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“And Black’s too big to safely maneuver around here,” Shiro said.

“Red’s fastest, though,” Keith said. “I could get you to the Castle pretty fast. I don’t think Lance is going to need help before I get back.”

Shiro exchanged a look with Allura, and then turned to Hunk. “You know him best. Is he going to be alright if we do that?”

“He’s basically brought a little bit of hell with him,” Hunk said. “I don’t think he’ll be able to kill Haggar or Lotor, because they’re too strong for that, but… they won’t be able to kill him either.”

Shiro nodded. “Alright. Keith? D—”

He cut himself off as a terrifying pressure suddenly made itself known. It was a deep-seated, visceral sort of fear, burrowing deep into his hindbrain and making itself known with a metaphorical howling. It was… familiar.

He turned to look at the building wreathed in black smoke and blue-gold flames, looked to where Lance was. With conscious thought, he deactivated his arm again.

“Yeah,” Hunk said, the only one of them not to be stunned into silence by what could only be the spreading demonic aura that summoning hell had given Lance. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“…Keith, do you seriously have a boner right n—”

“Shut up, Pidge.”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance tilted his head, still grinning. He took a step forward and the fires swirled around him, wreathing him in flames as the table he stood on started to lose structural stability. The building was going to start falling apart soon; he was sure of it. Nonetheless, he kept up with the act. His arms dropped down to waist height, though not all the way down, the clawed fingers just slightly curled and palms facing out and up.  
  


**“W͔͇̤͇͓̘͉h͇͍ͩ͒ͩͣa͍̻ͪ͐ť͓͓'̩̝͍ͭͦ̓ͯ̂s͙̱͉͔͚͋̎̔ ̼̭͙̗̫̟̅̇̋ẃ̟̯͍͉͎̮̞ͧ̉̋͆ͬ͋r̟͎͔͔̭̱͇͋͗̀ͦͮo̦̪̞̪̭̮̥n̙̦̂̍̈ͬ͋͆g̯͔̰͍͚̤̯ͬ?̇ͥ͂̒̐** ” He asked as he got closer. ̛ **“C̻̥̘̼̫͔͔ͦͪ̾̑̀a̜͉̰͓̳̠͛̅ͭͩ̌t́̓̄ ̩̺͚̻̦̫͍ͣͦǵ̗̤̞͛̇ͭͫͪo̱̮t̟̪͐͊̈̒ ̦̯̭̎̅͌͐ͫy̯͓͇͗ͨ̌̈̽o̔ͯù͖̮̤̯̥̖̏͗r̬̹̪̋͆ͦ̽ͅ ͆̓ͭ̂͊ͣ̚t̝͙͕͓͖͔͐̋ͯ̇ͫǒͧ̍̔̏n̥̺g̼̱̯̀̄̍͗ͮͭṷ̭̗̻̹̪͉̐ë͚̗̤̱̮̈́ͦ?̬̪̲̻̯”**

  
“You’re not human,” Haggar said, moving to circle him again. There was something in her voice that Lance couldn’t pin down, not quite curiosity, but… well nothing good. “So that begs the question… what are you?”

  
“ **Ō͈̤͙̩̞ͫ͐̑̒h̰̩̘͖͍̻̋ͩͩͬ̋̍̈ͅ,̱̟̪̻̜͖̭ͨ̽̀̔̿ͤ ̫͓̞̟̣͆I̗̹͔͒ͪ́ͥ͋̌̇ͅ'͓̖̏ͣ̀̾ͦ͂͑m̭̘̊ ͯ̋̈s̼̫͔̯̙̼̒͛̆u̻͍͎ͣͤͫ͛̿r̯̲͔ͫ̈̐̀͋͑ͅe̯̝̰̩̟̫͉̒ ͚̑͆ͬy͙͉̲̳̝o͎͎̞u͖̼͔̗͇̣ͭ̅̈ͩ͐̉ȓ̩͚͖͇̘̱̠̇ͭ͆̈ͨͯ ̘̠̭̊͋͐sͨ̌̃ͬ͆o͙̼̫ͧͦ̏̾͒̆n͕̺͂́ͧ̒͗ͅ ̱͎̖ć̗̙̙͍ȁ̩͙̟̥̠ͮ̑̄ͅn̬͖̳ ̫͔̙̰̹͉a͍͉͍̻͚̜̼̅̉́̆̒n̹̙ͣs̆̅̎̂ͨ͐ẘ͇̟̬̰̥̳ḛ̯͎̺̱̥̊̑̾̇r̰̤̮̻ͅ ̦̥͚͎̙̖̻̇̃̓͌̊͐ṭ̱̹͌̊͛ͦͪh̞̐͂ͫͯḁ̪̮̼̣̲̦t͚̱̦̘͂̔̌ͤ́,̞͖͍̐ͯ̓̓̑͌̏ͅ ̽͐͂̍̓y̮̼͉͈̤͆o̲͈̙̳͌̂͂u̼ ̳̦̩ͬ̄̅͊̌̉o̝̹̼̽͋̃̚l̝̘̲͚̠̫͖d̺͕̗͖̯ͥͣͬ͌ͅ ̻̗̰͈͍͙̦ͬ̒͋̓ͯw̥ͮͅi̍͑̈̅ͫt̙̒c̹̤̖̖͍͂͋̊̏̾ͭ̍ḫ̹̰̜̑ͤ̉̋̉͊̑,** ” Lance laughed. He bit his lip, eyes sliding to Lotor.

  
“He said he was Ok-vari,” Lotor said stiffly. “I’m finding it a little less difficult to believe, now.”

“Nonsense,” Haggar hissed. “Those are nothing but children’s stories.”

“Fantasies,” Lotor said, seeming a little more calm now that Haggar was also dismissing the possibility. “Naught but fairy tales.”

Odd, Lance thought, that a term like that would translate. Well, he supposed it was time to go as all-out as he could. He had been focused on building up the base for his actual powers until now, the ‘bite’ of his abilities, but now it was time to bring up the ‘bark’ and get a little psychological.

 **  
“Yͬo̿ͨ̀ͨ̊̕u̢ͤ̾̉̎'ͨ͛̔̃d̨ͦͧ͑ ̷ͩͨ͌̃͑b̒̅̎̈́̍ͩ͜e͋͒́̎s̓̿͑͂͒̀͟t̛ ̴ͫ̔ͣ̾̔̓s̴t̷ä́͐ͨ͊̋͋̄r͛̃ͣ͌̓t̑ͣͪ̑ͨ̍̇͡ ̢̋b̄ͧ̃̈̌͗̄e̾̄̌ͫ̀͂̚l̵̽ͮ͒̅ieͦ̀͟v̄ͨ̏̒ͧ͝i̴n͋̎ͭ̄ͮ̽g̢ͨ̏ ̿̎̚͡iͬ̽͊͆͊n̒̊ͬ̊ ̸̉̓̃͋̈͌̔f̿̓̒̓̀̔͝aiͯͭͮ̾̀ͨrͭ͌yͭ͑͐͒ͫ̆ͣ ̆̈̐͂͋̚t̶al̵̓̌ͥ͑ėͪͪͮ̾͞s̢̑̋̚,͜ P̓̿̿ͭ͜r͑ͬ̀͒̓ͧī̓̎͒̾́̚n͐͑̅͂̐ͨ͌ce̕ Lͤ͌͒͛ͮͤ͆őṫ͒ͨͨ͌̈́̓ỏ̄̾̇͗̓r̷̊,ͣͫ̔̔̓̀ͪ"** ” Lance laughed, and pulled on the demonic energy coursing through him, the flames of hell and blood of innocents (because even when given consensually, even when he’d done nothing wrong to get it, it was still innocent blood), and turned it into the kind of horror show sensation that demons were known for. “ **B̪̘̫͖̫̮͚͜e̬͇͟c̦̝͉͎̳̗̭̟͇̕͜͞a̡̯͎͖u͓͍̪͝ş̼̝͝e̡̡̻͕̺͇ ͔̱̘̱̪̟y̥̰̗͖̟̺̟͘ͅo̳̺͉͇̥̟u͏̠̜'͈̠̣̱r̞͈͙̳͜e̤͖͘ ͉͙͚̣̞̣͕l̟̜̜i͉̱͚̼̺v̵̨͍̻̭i͇̮̫̱͎̙̪ͅn͏҉̳̘̝g̢͍̭̹̺̙̥͟͞ ̖̦̞͙i̘͎͢n͉͖ ̴͔̱͍͈̫̮̭ͅǫ͏̗̮̭̘n̵̼͖͈e̷̺.̥̟̞͔͍”**

  
With that, he launched himself forward, hissing loudly. He aimed his claws for Lotor’s jugular, dropping most of the technique he’d learned in favor of outright brawling instead. Lotor dodged, unsurprisingly, but Lance didn’t let that stop him. The hissing and movement had served its purpose, and the fire imps had taken their cue to start screaming along with the fire. They moved en masse, swarming Lotor and Haggar, and providing exactly the kind of distraction that Lance needed at the moment.

“Presumptuous little _brat,_ ” Haggar spat, and Lance was hard-pressed to dodge the blast of lightning that she shot his way. He could have turned to smoke, of course, but he had to keep _something_ up his sleeve, right?

 **  
“Ô͂͊̇h҉ ͬ͂̽ḑ̈ͤeͮa̅͊ͨ͋̐rͧ͟,̡ ͘aͣ̑̃m̀̾̉̾͋ ̴̀I͛̄ͨ̑́̌͘ ̓̽͛̈̍ͨ͜aͮ̋̒ͥͤͣͯnͥͭ̐ͮ͐ͯ͗n͗̌̾̆̔̉ͤo̧͌̽yi͆͑͡nͪ͆ͭ̓̐͢ǵ̐̈͗̏ ̅̆̅͝y̨o͐u̴̿ͫ̉̄̃ͦͯ?ͤ̇̔͆̎ͪ͠ ̿͛Iͤ͂'d̡̾ ͯͫ̉̉̚s͗̽ͫ̽̇ͦͣ̕aͪ̔͞y̎͘ ͬͥ̆ͮ̓͆ͧI͆ͥ'ͧ̒ͤͫͤͧ̕m͛̆̂̓͋͏ ̒̇s̉ͦ̆̒͋̚͝ö̴́͆̌̊ͯ͋r̾̎͗ͥ͜r͂ͦ̈́̚y̴ͩͯͬ,͌̿͗̚ ̔ͯ̕b̸̈́ͣ́̓̆ͨuẗ́͊̐͐̃.ͬ..ͮ̌”** Lance sprawled across the table for a moment, posing in the most obnoxiously mocking manner he could. **“L̤̪̦̤ẹ̺̗͙͘t̡̪͉'̝s͚̭̖͚͙͕ͅ ̻̝̳͍̭͇͓f̹̥̙̰͕͟ͅa͜c̝̳e͎͖̥̪̙̟̫ ̠̬i̼͈̦̖̜ͅt͢,̥̜̠ ̡̲̻̞̥̱ͅI̥͟'̙̱͠m̷͓̯̱͚̖̗ ̙̭r҉̜̞̩e̶̪̪̲̥͕̬ͅa̯͕̯͔͓̠͚͡l̨̫̮ḻ̪̦̦̟̪y̴̯̳͔͓̟̰̼ ͞n̢ot̹.̖̖"**

  
“Stand _still_ ,” Lotor hissed between gritted teeth, and seconds later, after a short period of Lotor swinging a sword and Lance doing his best to dodge, there was a squelching noise.

Lance looked down at the sword embedded in his chest. In almost an afterthought, he stopped his own heart to keep himself from bleeding out too much. “ **H̠͉̪͎͕̤͇̏̈ͭ́ͨ͐ū̘̲̠͕̬̘h̬͖̘͎̳ͧ̑ͤ̑́.͕̈́͋** ”

“I win,” Lotor said, with a smile of his own.

Lance giggled a little. Then he laughed a little harder. Then he started outright guffawing, bending over at the waist and clutching at his stomach. The imps echoed him, pausing in their own attacks to chitter out high-pitched, mocking laughs.

“What?” Haggar asked, sounding very offended and not a little frustrated.

 **  
“I̷ͬ̆ͯ͜'ͤ̓̀̏̿̓m͆̃͝ ̴ͥͩ͆͐ͫͩ̚a̛̾ͨͭ̓̕l̨̋͢͠rͮͨ͡҉eͫ̐͒ͦa̽͌̎ͭͨ́̿͟͞d̉ͮ̎̀͌̏ͨ͞͝yͬ́ͥͦͫ̊͋ ̓̅̒̀ḑͯ̿̿̃̑͠ȇ͊͊ͩ͏҉a̷ͤ̽͗̔ͮ͝d̨̑͆̑̈́͛̓̉͐,̛̓ͭ̉͝ ̡͊̒̅ͯ̑̾ͧ̚a̧͌̈́̾͐͞sͯ͆̎͠s͂̋h͛̓̏̿ͪ̐̏͏o͊͘͝ļͥͭ̾ͫͫ͋̚̚͝ĕ̄š̴̊͢!͂̐͊̉ͨ̂̾͏”** Lance reached up and pulled the sword out, brushing a hand across his chest and wiping away the blood. As he brought his hand away, he left behind smooth, unbroken skin. **“I͓̺͕̣̜̞͍̝̰͘ ̰̟̬̕h̵̻͙͓͔͠a̼̞̺̘̮ṿ̤͓͕̤̬͉e̘̺̖̹ ̥̦̪̮̥̖̲b̰͓̹̤̙̼̫e͖͇͚̫̲͚͠e̝̜̙̲̮͙̻n̷̩͓̤̣̯̩͢ ͕̪͔͞s͉̪į̵̺̠̖̪͝n̼̹̺͎͈̭̘̩c̭͇̬̠͝e͏̪͙͔͖̥͞ ̤̹̳̹̮t̵̴̢͍̫͍̭̯̠̠̫h͕͚͉̰͔̫͝e̷̲̬̥ ͔̰̪̙̜̬d̠̼̤̼̼͙ͅa̴̴͉̬̤̠͕y̧͚̦͇ ̤̙̠̪̯̕͜I̶̥̜̺ ̴̢̛͇̣̳̩̫̘̮̲w̵̛̼̠͕̘̼̻̦͠a͚̝͉͔̲͍̰̗ͅs̴̫̬̠ ̷̡̦̭̣̞͈͙̤̘͠c̛̪͇̠͈̦̩̞r̴̺̱͉̤͞ẹ͍͎̘a̡̳͓͘t̨͉̞̤͖͖̠͢͠e̡̳͙͓͡d̰̠̙͇̱̤̳̟͇̕͠!̧͔̜̝̙͚̘”**

  
That was a bit of an overstatement, phrased just oddly enough to give them the wrong idea, but Lance had actually stalled out his own heart more than once as a baby. It had freaked his human parents out, but Mamá had always been there to assure them it was normal and fix him up. And if she wasn’t there, well, Marisol was his usual babysitter for a reason.

“Mother,” Lotor said, angling his body towards Haggar, even as he kept his eyes on Lance and his hands busy trying to get rid of the endless number of screaming fire imps. “I’m starting to think he might be telling the truth.”

“The ok-vari aren’t real, Lotor,” Haggar grumbled out. “You’re too old for such nonsense. More likely that Coran and the Princess have played with those healing pods until they changed something within him. He’s no different than the robeasts.”

Her magic twisted, and Lance tensed as he spread his senses for the teleport she was probably preparing. Haggar’s form fizzled at the edges, readying and—

A percussive blast escaped her, blowing back the flames for half a moment as she gave out a raw-throated yell and fell to her knees.

Lance and Lotor both paused, staring at her.

“…Mother?” Lotor asked, hesitant and tense.

“What did you _do?”_ Haggar demanded, staring at Lance with unconcealed rage.

 **  
“I̭̗ͤͯͫ.͔̤̗̤̲̠̞̈̋͌̈.̖͇͈̞̄̒̊̐͂͗.̬̮̠̰ͨͭ̊ͪ ͉͍̻̹̦͖̺̿̇ͯg̑̆ṳ͚̗̟̯͍̩̋̏̋e̞̥͙ș̚s̹͕ ̦̮̬̤̠t̪̩͍͖̟̒ͧ̔ͮ̉̑ẖ̰̂ẻ̖͙͕͉͙̥̾̀͌̈́̑̚ͅ ̟͉̰̯͕h̠̮̳̰͗͋ͯ̈͑e̞̟̦͕ͭ͂̒̚̚̚l̳̝̙͊͆̎l̘̠͌ͨͯ-̘̾̏̐̽s̬̗̬͛̎̐̐ͥ͗u̞̦͕̐͋̀ͦ͋ͫm͈͔̙͖m̺ͨ̓̈̍͒o̳̤͛̈̊ͅn̯̼̓̎̍ͅĩ̯͙̅ͧn̯̼̮̣̎͒ͭ̂̋̍͆ͅg̩̥ ͌̀ͦ̅ͭf̙͎͇͓͙̠̅ͧ͂̏̓̚u̩͖ͨͬͬ̑c͖̰͎̱̥̗̬ḵ̲̰͙͉ͪ̐̐͆͛̓̉e̼̠̘͐̇͗ͨd̠̹̠͎̝̫̝̆ͣͮͤ̇̅̚ ̹̯̪̫̭̽͗̑͊w̤̩i̞̯t̟͔̺̝͖̯̻̾̆ͮh͈̺̞̹ͤ͐͂͗̈͒ ͔̦͖̰š̳̠p̩̺̳ͬ̋ͣ̋̉̐a̝̦͕͌̔̓c͔͚ͣͧ̿ͮ̓́̑e̠̫̺̬̪̻̳-̹̩̈́͌̓͊̚t̗͚͎ͧ̿̊̏ͅi̼͆ͫͣ͆ṁ̯̮̩̿̀e̞̤̯̻̜̝̠ͦ̃ ̙̠͓̗̬̬̬̈́͗e̓̈́ͦ̃̍͑n̞͈̩͕̩̝͈ͦ̅͒o̝̪̲̤̗ͪͫͤ̋̒̔̈́u̜͇͇̒͂̃̽g͛́ͥ̒̽ḣͪ ̻̩̜̭̘ͩͫ̈̒ͭ͐͆t̙̹̙͖̃̂ͫo̳̞̓ͪ͑̔ ̮̠̘̺̋̆ͥͧṃ̗͈̙̪͙̈́ͫ̋ͯͅeͩ͒ͣ̃s̰͎͓̟s̖̜͙̺̞͉ͅ ͉̳ͧ̎̌͆ṵ̺͉̄p͕ͪ̓̏̔̏ ͔̄̇ͪͦ̅ͫ͛y̪̪̠̫̑͌̑ͣͫ̎o͎͎̮̜̹͍ű̳̠̬̬ͤ͋͋ͣ͌ͅr͖̙̤̟̰̼̜ ̺͔̝t̤̹̜̝͎̭ė͚̭͕̤͍̟ͭ͆̋l̗͈̦͚e͇̰̰͔ͯͩͬ̿͑̂̓p̫͍͍̻̤̅͋ͥ̄o͕̝̽rͩ̄ͤ̄̐͌ͭt̳̜̳͆̎s̱̟̞̗̺̾̉̓,͓̬͎̟͈̖ͦ̋̐”** Lance said. **“H͎͍̦͚u̜̣̯̼̰̹ͪ͂ͮ̅̂͊̎h͓̣̯̦̗.̬͕̺̻̺̰ͨ͊͒͌͐ͫ̋”**

  
“Hell summoning?” Haggar demanded. “You continue with this ridiculous claim of being an ok-vari?”

  
Lance giggled, high on the idea that he’d accidentally neutralized one of Haggar’s most useful weapons. **"W̙̝͈͇̙o͕̯̮͍͍̙͔̅͊͆̎ͦ̔̅w̠̙͚̞̪̯̘ͪ͐̿͆̊ͥ.͈ͤͥ̒ͩ̊͗ ̮̥̽ͧY̥̝̣̰̠̯̘o͓̗͍ͫͫu̺̘ͦ ͙̔ͯͭ̈́͗k͊̎̍n̲̗̮̘͙̝oͥ͆̌w̗̜̠̭͕ͥ̌ͨ͂,̪̫̩̭̮͐͑̏ ̬͉̬̯̏d̰̗̝̐̓̾eͥͫͥ͑̃n̂ͦ͋̒i͍̬͖ͫa̮̬͈͙̳͕͗̆ͭ̌̆̐l̙ͩ ̝͚̦͙̤̞̤͆ͤa͔͕͕̻̼͓ͫͤ̃͂̉ī̝͚̞͙̗̹͗ͮͮ̚n̜͔̻̞̣͙̼ͥ'̝̩̱̠̦̣̪̓͛t̖̝͎̠̘͖̉̀̌̈͛̆͑ͅ ̫̭̺͉͎̻̔͂͑͆̄ͫj̬̲̣͈̠̮ͣ̅͛̊u̝̅̒ș̼̯̤͇͎̘̇͌̏̎̓͗t̗̼̲̰ͅ ̺̳͆á͖͋̋ͥ͐̉͋ ̝̭̤̝̗̝r̹͍̥͆͑ͬ̔͛͊ͅĩ̹ͧ̅̈ͨv̅̈́ͬ͗͐e̞ͦr̫̫ͭ̔̾̈̓ͬ ̻̖ͤ̊i̮̰̯̙̬̻͑̐ͩṋ͈̱͚͚͗ͨ̊ ͎ͤͥͮͥͥ̅ͤE̽͐́̊ͯĝ̗̟y̹̱̩͕̯̩p͖̌͐t̲ͨͅ,̖̪̥̝͓͎͈ͯͤ̽ͩ̅ ̺̺̼̰̥̒ͭ̽̒̊̈́̒l̓̿́ͮa͙̺͉̦̪̻͙̔ḋ̼̼̞̬͌y͙ͬ̅͛ͥ.͎ͨ̐̈́͋̄ͯͤ"**

  
“What’s Egypt?” Lotor asked, because he, for some reason, had to. “Why would someone name a river after denial, of all things?”

Lance paused instead of attacking, giving him a flat stare. **“Really?”**

“Your voice changed back,” he noted. “Is that meant to indi—”

 **“Yeah, because your question was ridiculous and completely outside the context of normal battle banter!”** Lance protested, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. **“Is this your first time flyting or something?”**

Lotor frowned and—and Lance really should have seen this coming—jumped forward to attack again. Unfortunately for Lance, he got another hit in. Lotor’s shin slammed into Lance’s midsection in a blindingly powerful kick that knocked the air out of him.

It also knocked him out of the empty window.

Lance crashed into the wall of the building opposite, dazed and barely managing to get enough of a grip to stay where he was instead of slipping further down. He hung there for a moment, then looked up and met Lotor’s eyes. Lance pulled his lips back into a snarl, hissing up at Lotor, and tried to figure out the best option right now. He wasn’t going to have any trouble flying; he wasn’t injured, and the heat from the fire meant that he was going to have plenty of thermal updrafts to help him, as soon as he hit them. He could even see Red coming back from… probably the Castle, which meant that they had something planned.

The Red Lion came to a stop in front of him, floating, and one of the eyes changed to project an image of the inside. She wouldn’t be able to project noises, but Keith could—

What.

 **“Since when do you know sign?”** Lance asked, gaping a little and maybe forgetting for a moment that Keith couldn’t hear him.

Keith looked like he was getting frustrated. Lance shook his head, eyes wide, and mouthed ‘I don’t know’ with exaggerated mouth movements.

(He remembered reading somewhere that lip-reading was easier with normal mouth movements for people who knew it well, but Keith had never given any indication that he knew how to lip-read, so…)

Keith wrinkled his nose and poked a few buttons, which lead to the eye flashing the word **STALL** in English, all lit up in big red letters, for a few seconds.

Lance nodded. He had no idea what the plan was, but he could do that. He looked back at the building just in time to see a blast of Haggar’s lightning leave her hands and slam into Red.

Keith screamed visibly for a half-second before Red’s eyes cut out and went back to glowing yellow, but the lion didn’t fall. She stayed hovering, drifting just a little, and then seemed to shudder as she righted herself and shot off into the sky. Keith was probably fine.

Still… Lance wasn’t happy about that. It was one thing to attack Lance. It was another to attack his friends.

(Never mind the fact that this was Keith’s fight as much as it was Lance’s. His _war_ as much as it was Lance’s, if not more. He was _Lance’s_ , inasmuch as anyone on the ship was. And that vampire possessiveness was a protective thing indeed.)

Keith would probably roll his eyes about it later, but right now, Lance was just going to use that protective rage to fuel his fight against Lotor and Haggar. He felt sorry about the number of people the fire was going to hit, but these two _needed_ to go down, or at least be kept occupied. Lance had no idea what the others were doing right now, but he had to focus on this fight.

…He could call Blue. He could disappear for long enough to freeze over the buildings nearby and maybe make a protective shell of some sort so the fire wouldn’t spread. The imps could take care of distractions for that time, but first Lance needed more time, and for that, he needed to _be_ the distraction.

For all the thinking that it took, Lance only needed a few seconds to come up with a plan. Less than three seconds after Keith took off for higher skies, Lance was moving again. Haggar hadn’t attacked again, distracted by the swarms of imps that were coming back, and Lotor didn’t have any long-range weapons, if Lance remembered correctly.

He launched himself from the wall of the building he was on, coming close enough to the Galra skyscraper to catch an updraft from the fire and head for the roof.

Lance swept up and over onto the scalding metal roof, and didn’t pay any mind to the fact that fire imps popped into existence around him as he landed. They clustered around him, chittering in what he suspected was excitement. This wasn’t Earth, after all, and Lance had a feeling they’d never been anywhere but home and hell.

He turned towards the tip of the pyramid-like roof, and hopped forward just enough to cling to it. Closing his eyes, he reached for the fire with his magic (running out, but bolstered by the flames), and pushed on it, pulled on it, twisted it around until it was heavy with hell in the closest thing a fire could have to a soul, and flared his wings and power as the fire and the imps screamed in unison. With a thought, he pulled up the illusions that came so very easily when he was in demon form and in a fire, and cast about [the music that would make him feel so much better about this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lC8zS1p-sG4). He stood up, tossed his head back, and yelled.

 

 

 **"̭͈͎̮̤ͣͩ̊́ͥ̾ͥ̍̒̄̽ͯ̉̊H̗͉͓͇͖͔̦͖̺̦͍͍̰̦͑͌̈̂ͦ̂̋̔̀ͤ̋͐̚Ȇ͇͇̮̣̮͓͇͍̰̠̬̘̘̳͌ͯ̊̽ͫ͆̇ͨͨ̊̏L̤͙̳̭̱͗̉̽ͥ̉ͨL͖̹͈̭͖̞̱̮͚͐͐ͦ͗ͪ̓ͅ.̲̻͎͇̘͈̪̤͖̘̞͋ͬͯ̔̈́ͫ̆̃͌̿̉͆̓̔.͇̗͙͔̲̝͇̰̤̹̼̣͙̗̓ͨ͌̍̾̊͊ͩ̐͐͌̔̆͋ͦ.̼̮̟͙̩̤̜̜͕͕̬̩̱̳ͥ͒͗̋̏̒̊̓́ͅͅ ̗̹̦̥̖͕̰̠̥̭͈̋̆ͥ͒͐ͫ̽̈́͗͑̃ͧ̚I̹͈͍̹̓̽͋ͤ̈́̀͆ͣ͊̐̽Ș̦͕͙̭̣̩̃͆ͭ̐́ͥ͂́̾̐̎ͬ̒͌͌ ͎̻̘̝͙̲͉͉̊̉ͦͤ̎͒̈́ͫͪ͆̆͆́̉̔ͩ͑̒ͫE̱͉͖͉͕̠̾̈͆͂̂̓ͮ̓̅͆̐ͦM̯̼͚̭̙͖̰̮̬̱̙̬̱̬͎̯̻̦ͨ̓̓̽̓̒ͭ̚ͅP̳̺͕͈̘͇̟͈͎͕̙͈̉̀͒̎̅̓̾ͭ̽̀̓ͣͩ̾T̹̱̬͎̮̤̪̱͚͙̔̄͆̋ͥ͊ͯ̇͂̏͑̎ͯ̇͛́Y̦̣͚̫̥̞̩̞̘̮̊ͬ̈ͥ̐ͤͨ͌̃ͨ̉̓ͮ͊̚!͚̲̪͈̯̤̙̠̟͕͇̺̅ͨͪ̒̊́̅ͣ̓̓ͮ̄̌"̭̥̯̹̽̔ͮ̀ͨ̿̽ͅ** ̩̺̩̠̖

 

 

He took a deep breath, felt the fire roar, and pushed it to take form over his head as he flapped down hard and entered the skies again.

 

 

 

 **"̪̳̖̤ͭ͑̈̿͒̆ͥ̃̂ͧ͒A͇̪̣̲̺͉̯̪̪͕͕ͣ̅̓́ͨͩ̒ͅN̙̟̞͇̩̦̜̗̰̦̂̑̓̚D̖̬̰͎͔̺̹̟̣͚̳̬̥̙̼͗̃̔ͧ̏ ̭̮̗̜̙͔̦̱̖̮̂̎͌̉ͦ̂̂̄͐ͨ̓̊̑ͣ̈́A̱͔͖͙̰͖̯͖̻̗̠͙̠̜͇͕ͧ̇ͤ͒̈̌ͨ̂ͭ͋ͫͫ́͂̌ͤ͐ͭ͗ͅͅL̻̮͙̯̪̬̏̏̔̇ͯ̊ͪͯͧ͗ͧ̐ͧL̲̱̙̤̲̫͍̗̤̤̩̝̞̊̋ͯ͊̒ͅ ̭̭̦̟̭̤ͤ̍ͤͮ̿̈͊ͣ̾̽̚T̳̻̮͈̮̜̩͔̗ͥ̋ͣͤ̋͋̔͐̍̉ͥ̊̓̓͋ͅH̠̣͔͕͉̯̩̥̝̖̱͚̬̉̋ͥ́̊́̄ͦͭͅͅȆ̝̝͎̬͔̫̭̱͓ͯ͛̔̀͆̏̈́̑ ̥̫̥̟̖̰̪̼̾́ͯͦ̍͗͆͗̄̉ͅD̹̺̣̮̮̹̼̰̞͉̗͉̮̬̝̹̑̑̆̍̂E̯̬͖̲͖̙̺̣̭̦̳̙͚̠̰̞͓͆ͪͮ̓̑̆ͩ͐͆̿͊ͧ͑̅̅́̐͆V̫͓̟̮̼͈̝͊ͪ͌̄ͤͬ̏͒ͥ̇ͥͣ̐ͫİ̱̝̝̭̩͓͚̟͕̤̜̖͖̗̱́̊̏ͧͣ̎̓L̝̟͉̮̖̬͚̲̼̟̞̺̠̹̮ͣͮ̈́͌ͫ̌̑̾͂̔͐͋S̯̠̰͓̬ͧ̅̽̅͒͊̓͊̂̈́͗̿̍̌͌ͬ̏̾̚.͈̦̼̘͍̅̓̎͑.͎̺̲͎ͯ͐̌ͥͭ̉̍̂̈́͐ͦͯ̏̽̏̓͐̚.̭̮͚̟̅̍͑̔͂̄̒̆̽͋ ̲̻̱̻̫̣̲͓̱̻̐̒̋̅A̮̘̱̰̦̹̯̬͈͎͕͍͆͂ͮ̂͂ͅR̲͉͇͇̗͍͍̭̩̺̤̗̗͎̓͋̋̆̓ͪ́ͥ̑̏̌ͦͮ̊E̲͈͕̗̫͇̺̬͙̣͔̹͈̼̼̠ͧ̀̇ͩͭͤ̍̑̃͐̽̔͗ͧͣ ̻̯͔̱̰͕͓͕͙̖͍͕̏̈́̍̆͊͑̈́ͨ̋̾ͤ͒̐̽̀͒ͧͯͦH͕͙̩̼͔̝̹̮̻̳̓̓̌͑̑̓Eͣͯ̍̈́̉̔͛̓͆͂ͤ͂̇̾E̱̠̘̭̦̺̖̲̥̹͍̰͊̓̃͛ͮ̆ͪE̩̺͖̘̤͚͎̟͔̍͒͑̇ͯ̑ͣͨͨ̉̾̐ͮͧ̐ͫ̄̚Ẻ̩̱̖͎ͮ̅̅͗̒̅̇̀́̋̅̀͋̍̌̚Ê̲̯̮̦̺̯̤͉̮̟̬̗͈̞̗̈́̎̈̓̆̉͑ͤ͛̋̊̈̒̉̑̔̍̾E̱̳̲̪̲̻̣͉̙͎͈̱̦͎͍̲̖̰̹̲̖͙̙̲͎̦̹͈̤͈͕͐̏̌̉ͯ̓ͤ͗̽ͅR̲̲̞̺̙̰̗͉̱̤͇̠̲̥̘͓͓̿ͣͦ̿̆ͣͭ̀͐ͅE̠͖̰̅̉̏̓͐͌ͬ̑̄́́̅ͥ͋!̖̤͇̟̞͈͐̿̊ͪͦ̂̒̅"̘̳̻̲̲̞͔̼̓͂̒͗̇̌ͧͨ̉̉̋ͧ͑̀̋͆̍̚ͅͅ** ͉͎̜̠̪

 

 

o.o.o.o.o

Keith stared down at the Galra skyscraper and carefully took his helmet off and put it in his lap.

A dragon. Made of blue and gold fire. Lance was taking the fire and turning it into a _giant fucking dragon_ , because Keith had told him to stall. A dragon that was now circling the building on massive wings, tossing fireballs back at Lotor and Haggar, and somehow sustaining itself despite the lack of fuel. Circling a building that was crawling in tiny creatures from hell itself.

Lance was literally dangerous as all hell right now.

Keith pressed down on his helmet hard enough to make the tops of his unprotected thighs hurt where the plastic-metal-whatever dug into them, but it didn’t do much to help with the erection.

…he kind of hoped the battle was over soon.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance stayed in the air just long enough for Blue to fly through the dragon and snatch him out of the air. He didn’t go back to human, not when he knew he’d be weak as shit if he did, but he headed for the cockpit and sat down in the suddenly-augmented chair.

Keith popped up on the screen. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

“Hell,” Lance said shortly. “I’m going to put some ice walls around the building and a sort of upside-down dome around the top so that the fire and debris and structural damage don’t end up affecting the nearby buildings.”

“Okay, but… how much help are you going to need later?” Keith asked, maneuvering around in the air and shooting a laser that just barely scraped against the building, and hit the empty street below.

“ _Stop shooting_ ,” Lance said. “You _know_ your aim is shit; you’re lucky that didn’t hit anyone.”

“…yeah, that’s fair,” Keith admitted.

“And to answer your question, probably a lot,” Lance said. “Doing all that shit is a lot easier when I’m in the fire, but I am, in fact, fighting Lotor and Haggar. Also, giant fire dragon, hundreds of fire imps, blue and gold flames, and so on. Kind of a lot.”

“I want to ride you,” Keith said, because he apparently had no shame. “As soon as we get back to the Castle and have a chance?”

“Is now really the time?” Lance asked. “I mean, I’ll probably bottom first just to save time, and blood comes before sex, but really?”

“Apparently I get off on you being dangerous,” Keith said. “But I’ll stop now.”

“Also, since when do you know sign language?” Lance demanded. “I mean, good job and all, but since when? _Why?”_

“…it’s actually your fault.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“You kept gesturing your hands to tell me the plan at the Balmera!” Keith protested. “I had no idea what you were trying to say!”

“I was _pantomiming_ ,” Lance said. “Not… not sign language, just hand gestures.”

“Well… I wasn’t sure, and I figured it was something to put time into learning anyway, since I had nothing better to do,” Keith said. “I mentioned it in a letter to Minako, and she sent along some beginner’s textbooks and learning programs on a flash drive that Pidge could turn into something I could use, and I’ve just been… messing around with it in my free time? When I’m not training or on a mission or hanging out with you guys, I guess.”

“And you didn’t think you could ask us about it or something?” Lance complained. “I mean, good on you for expanding your horizons or whatever, but if you’d _told_ us, we could have actually learned _with_ you. Or at least gotten the military hand signs from Shiro for missions. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I just… wanted to make sure I knew some stuff first,” Keith muttered. “There’s a lot of rote memorization, which I’m good at, but the grammar keeps tripping me up. ASL is hard. I didn’t want to… look like an idiot or whatever.”

“…we’ll work on it,” Lance sighed. “Also, I’m basically done here. Do you need to tell me anything before I get back into the fight?”

“The others are doing information retrieval on the warships that the commanders and Haggar and Lotor left in orbit, so the more time we give them, the better,” Keith rattled off.

“Keep stalling, got it.” Lance gave him a sharp nod, and then headed for the exit.

Unsurprisingly, he jumped.

o.o.o.o.o

“Jackpot~!” Pidge sing-songed from her place hacking into Lotor’s ship. “Guess what I just found.”

“Probably not information on your family, or you’d sound way more broken up about it,” Hunk said.

“…wow, okay, rude,” Pidge said.

“What? You wouldn’t be nearly as… flippant, I guess?” Hunk sounded a little confused.

“Enough,” Shiro ordered. “Pidge, what did you find?”

“A list of planets that Haggar’s marked off as targets of interest for the near future,” Pidge said. “I can’t read most of it, but the translator’s picking up enough to get coordinates and apparently analyses and potential plans? If it’s a trap, then… yeah, that’s bad, but if the info is legit, we’ve got a few places we can hit before they do. Alliances, hopefully, or at least resources if there aren’t any sapient species there.”

“Good job, Pidge,” Shiro sighed. “Anyone else?”

“Can’t read most of it, but I think I’ve got some stuff on supply lines?” Hunk offered.

“Laboratory records,” Allura said, distaste in her voice. “Extensive ones, mostly on the Robeast projects.”

“And I’ve got information on what they consider key planets in… Illkor and Serriv’s quadrants,” Shiro said. “Do we have time to hit up the other ships?”

“Lance is holding up okay,” Keith reported, “But I think he’s starting to reach his limit.”

“Let’s head out and destroy what we can, then,” Shiro decided. “Try to push the battleships into falling into the unpopulated areas.”

“Roger that,” Pidge said. “By the way, did anyone find any prisoner records?”

“I think there might be a few in what I got,” Shiro said.

“Mine as well,” Allura confirmed.

“Uh, guys? Let’s hurry up,” Hunk reminded. “Lance isn’t bad at this, but he’s still only half-incubus. He can’t keep this up for that long.”

“We know, Hunk,” Shiro said. “Allura, I’ll come by to pick you up in Black. Pidge, Hunk, start in on destroying the battleships.”

“On it!”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance knew, without a doubt, that he’d be worse than useless as soon as he was human again. He was hanging on by tenterhooks as it was, with only the fire holding him up properly. The flames fed him just as much as he fed them, and they were charging up his magic in a feedback loop now, like the magic he’d fed to the fire earlier was an investment that was paying off now that he was flagging.

“Tired?” Lotor asked, sprinting towards Lance and stabbing for his heart again with his sword. “I may not know magic as well as my mother does, but I know that something this large must be draining.”  
  


“ **A̠̞̞̼͉ͩ̔ň̺͔̥̫́̈͗̅̊̂d̦͓̻̻̫͕̓͆́̆͆͌̚ ̶̫̦̜͍̍̈́͗͑̽̒̔h͙̟̲͔͙̉ͩͤ̊ͬͦ͐͡e͍͙r̺̯͛̈́̾e͍̹͈͓ͩͯ̋̿ ̨̪ͣȊͬ̍ͬ̅̊̚ ̡͉̬̂̉ͫw̑́̄͏̦äs̵̠̝͈̲͚͉,̘̜͈̜̟̖̈́̌̈̓ͦ̂̅͡ ̸̰͉̜͈̽̎ͅë̟̱̠̤͚́̾ͭ͋̓ͧ̄n̰͔̰̭̻̥̠̽̄̃̿̆ͯ̈͜j̖̬̹ͦͥo̝̩ͩ̊̈́̌ͩẙ̫̱̓͐̑ͤị̡͕̟̜̃ͨͦ̆̐̂̅nͯͅg̗͍͚̫̞͔ͯ̔̍ͫ́̈ ̵̦a͓̅̋ ͉̦̙̤l̜̳̻̗͓̓͗̊̆̅i̷̤̜̯̘̿͆̌̂t̟̻͍̞̦͊͐ͯͅt̍̑l̫̣̣͕̺͋͟êͪͬ͑̃͜ ̵̗̠̻̮̗̌̈́͋tͫ͢a̰̙͎͑ͅs̼͚̿͊ͧ̊ͧͥ̒ͅt͚̫͚̝̺͓̼̂e̝͕͍̤͔͇ ̙̯̜͈̫̗ͧ͜ȍͤ̐͛͂̓͠f̗̂̿̃ͨ̽̚ ̻̈̀͐̇̕ho̓͗ͩ̎͐ͤ̏m͎̱̙͓̤͓̝ͬ̎̀̓̔e̜̝͑̌̓ͣ,̸̥̱̀̄̌̍̾ͭ** ” Lance spat as he dodged. **“F̴̥̘̤̫̀̑͂̊e̲͖͚̬̹̞͍ͫ͒͑͘e̥͈̬͍̦͙ͭ̀͐͌͒͗͂͘ͅl̘ĩ̱͇͚̥ͭ̅ͅn͕̘̦̼͙ͫg̓̄̕ ̠̻̩͙̳͍̈́̇̍t̶̰̘̼̰̪̮̓̀̔̓ͤḧ͈̬́̈́eͧͪ͛̎̈́̚ ̐̌̈̋b̓u̙̟͖͓̟̻͇ͨ̓̾̚r͕̃̊̊̽̄͢ṇ̤̳̄ ̸̗̙̲͓͍̅̃̊̆ẙ̟̿̊e̟͉̞̗̋̂̚ͅt͙̝͔̭̭͍͗̀?͙̯̜̰̼̼̀ͯ̂”**

  
“Hardly,” Lotor said, twisting his sword to rip a tear through Lance’s wing. He eyed it with satisfaction as it healed with notable sluggishness. “Though it seems you might be.”

Haggar stood against the wall, glaring at Lance with a truly worrying amount of spite.

 

 **“Y̴͛̾̑͋͛ͩͧ̀͜e̢̐͌̉̚aͩ͐̂̽̕h͊͊̌͆ͫ͋ͭ̄?͐͋̽͂͒̒́ ̈͊͗̐͂͠M̍̽ͯ̒͡ä̔̂̐ͣ̉͆́̃̕͟yͩ̂̎̚͟b̵ͬͬ̿̋͒ͫ̈́e̍ͥ̾̋̿ͨ̂͞ ̓̿ͪ͟͞I̶̢ͭ̑͋̐̎͠'̛̆̅ͥ̓m͗̏͐̈́͐̾͘ ͒̉͑͊ͯ͛͊̄̐͟j̧́̆ͭ̀ͨ̆̔̀͝͞u͒͗̉͞s̡ͭ̐̾ͪͥͨ̾̑̚͡tͪ͏̛ ͯ̆ͧ̏͝g̈́eͮͭ̋̐̍ͧ҉͡͠ţ̴ͪ͌͛ͮ͂̓̆t͛͂̊͋͒̇̆ͨ̃i̶͒̆̎͗̽̑͗̓͢n̡̧̏͑g̸ͦ̊ͭ͆̄̄ ̛ͫ̚s͐̾̐ͪ͛̌͢͜t̷̶̊͊͒ͥ͗ͧ̈́̚ȧ̏́̂̓ͩ̇̓҉̵r̶̐͐ͥͤ̀ͭ̚t͊̂̉͏e̐̒̏̎̋͗ͬ͠d̢ͬ͒͛͊̇͛ͧͧ͝”** Lance said, shifting on his toes. It was a miracle of Galra engineering that the floor hadn’t fallen through yet. He kept his eyes on the edges of the room, where the deepest flames and biggest clusters of fire imps were. Shifting, hulking masses were starting to fade into existence, creatures that were taking advantage of the hellfire to take a look at the action, demons that even Lance didn’t want to see making their appearance in full. He backed up against the corner and focused, until the imps started screaming again, and the fires swirled in onto themselves.

A lion made of blue-gold flames took form, lips pulled back as it prowled towards Lotor. Lance pushed what he could feel was left of his magic, scraping the bottom of the barrel and pushing it into the giant, flaming cat. He almost gave it two tails (because he wasn’t as Ravenclaw as most of his family, but he had his nerdy indulgences as much as anyone, and a giant flaming blue cat was always a bit of a Matatabi reference in his head), but it started molding around itself on the way, settling into a shape without his conscious input.

“Enough! Lotor, we’re leaving,” Haggar snapped, and ran for the window. Lance had no idea what she was planning to do once she was outside, but she jumped without any sign of fear, so she could probably fly or something. Maybe she was expecting her teleportation to work again once she was outside the flames, which it probably would, if the ice platform wasn’t too close to the warping hell-field.

Lotor stood in the face of the flames for a moment longer, then scoffed and turned to jump out. “Perhaps next time, paladin.”

 **  
“P̤̤͚̰̺̞̔́̾ͧ̓̏ë̪͚̺̘̭̗͙́͌̄ͩ̄r̤͈̣̫̞ͯ̾̍ͨ͛ͤ̔h͖̙̙̹́a͈̪̰͒ͥ̃̏͂̈p͕̙͖̠͕̳͔̎͒͗̓s͚͕͎̞͇̯͙̾ͬ̓ͧ,̲̣̣̪͙͋̎̿͆̇́̃”** Lance agreed.

  
He sank to the ground as Lotor disappeared, closing his eyes and trying to maintain consciousness. Blue’s mind pushed against his own, tentative and worried, and he tried to assure her that everything was fine. He’d need some blood, absolutely, and Keith was willing to help with Tier Three, but he’d be fine.

Lance let his mind drift, wondering if he could douse the fire without Blue’s help, just pull it in tighter and tighter until it disappeared.

Chittering met his ears, and he opened his eyes to see a crowd of the fire imps gathering around his feet, their warm-colored, near-black bodies standing out against the varying shades of blue and gold.

“ **Thank you,** ” he said. “ **Were the events payment enough? I’m afraid I have nothing to trade at the moment.** ”

The imps milled about for a moment, continuing with their noises, and then turned to him and nodded in unison.

“ **The energy?** ” Lance asked, and then sighed as they nodded rapidly. “ **Good to know. Once again, thank you for your help. You are dismissed.** ”

With little shudders, they disappeared, and Lance let his head fall back against the wall again, letting the fire lick against his body, warm and oddly safe. Time to go, though.

He held out a hand in front of him, palm facing out, and curled his fingers inwards. He could feel the fire disappearing from the roof, pulling in towards where his hand was. He let his mind extend along the flames, and—

His eyes snapped open, and he stared at the blue lion made of fire that sat in front of him, watching. It hadn’t dissipated. It hadn’t gone. It was shrinking, sure, but it was still here.

And it was _alive_.

“ **Oh shit.** ”

o.o.o.o.o

Allura was the first one inside the Blue Lion when it landed, since the paladins had to run maintenance on their own after a mission that didn’t end in an emergency.

“Lance?” she called, moving around to the pilot’s seat. “Lance, are you alright?”

“Mm… ‘Llura,” he mumbled, turning his head in her direction. “Ah… ‘m thirsty…”

“Oh quiznak,” Allura muttered, pulling off her armor and unzipping the bodysuit partway. She pulled it down to her shoulders, revealing the smooth brown skin and swooping pink lines below the fabric, and sat on the floor, pulling Lance onto her lap, despite the trouble she had with maneuvering his limp wings about. She pressed his face to her neck, waiting, and was rewarded with a response after a few seconds. Lance took some time to start moving again, but the deep breath that he took as he smelled her told Allura he was mostly alright, and the way he nosed along the crook of her neck as he blindly searched out the artery was a relief, even if the tips of his horns came a little too close to her skin a few times.

“There you go,” she said, running her fingers through his hair as his fangs sank into her neck before pulling away so he could drink properly. He was straddling her, clad in heavily-torn and burned leggings that were at least more cloth than hole. “Take as much as you need.”

He hummed a little in response, pressing a little closer, but she had no idea what the noise was supposed to mean. Probably a denial that he’d take as much as he needed, because that would be more than she could safely give.

(A common complaint from him, honestly).

“Lance?” Keith called as he entered the Blue Lion behind her; Allura could hear his footsteps barely echoing before the shape of the lion muffled out the sounds. “Whe—oh, Allura, hey.”

“He’ll be fine,” she said, keeping her voice calm and even. “I’d prefer to get him to Coran after this, and maybe even put him into a healing pod for a short while. I imagine he’d prefer to sleep it off, but I’d rather use the healing facilities for their intended purposes.”

“Think it’ll do any good?” Keith asked, crouching down next to her and, she guessed, running his knuckles lightly along Lance’s cheek.

“I don’t know; I know it hasn’t helped with the blood starvation before, but a quintessence drain should be easier to manage.”

Lance started pulling away, licking a little at her wound until it was just a bruise. He gave up after a moment, though, and buried his face in her neck again. He didn’t drink or bite or do anything other than sit there and shudder for a few long moments.

“You okay there?” Keith asked.

“I’m _really_ tired,” Lance mumbled. “I want hugs. And blood. And sex. And food. And sleep.”

“You’ll get all of it soon enough,” Keith promised. “Think the pods might help?”

“They’d take as long as sex or sleep,” Lance said. “And more time than blood. And they’re less fun.”

“Do you mind if I put you in for a few ticks anyway, just to make sure exhaustion is the only remaining symptom?” Allura asked. “We don’t know what happened down there.”

“Got stabbed,” Lance said, hand moving between them to press to his heart. “And he ripped a big tear in my wing.”

“Let’s check on that, and get some more blood and food in you, and then we can go to my quarters for the rest, alright? We’ll bring Keith,” Allura promised, and slipped her hands under Lance’s thighs as she moved to stand up.

“We’ll make a party out of it,” Keith said, and Allura had the feeling he was doing that thing where he attempted to mimic someone else he’d heard, not quite understanding the joke himself, but more than willing to attempt to use it after he thought he’d figured out the right context.

“Mm…” Lance hummed, nodding into Allura’s neck. He froze and tensed up after a moment, though, and moved to scrambled down from Allura. “Go down without me. I need to get something.”

Allura shot Keith a look of confusion and concern, and then turned back to Lance. “We need to get you some medical help, Lance.”

“And I will, but I need to get something,” Lance said, though his white-knuckled grip on the back of his pilot’s chair and his swaying betrayed his lack of internal stability. “And I want to do show-and-tell with the team all at once, so you have to go down alone first.”

Allura licked her lips, considering, and then nodded. “I’ll trust you. You have thirty ticks.”

Lance nodded, and Allura turned to leave, grabbing Keith as she went.

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?” He asked as they looped around down the stairs.

“If he’s not down in thirty ticks, we’ll come back for him,” she said, coming to a stop in front of the Blue Lion’s mouth. She nodded at the team, gathered there in full. Even Coran had made it down from the control room, and had already pulled off a glove and rolled up a sleeve in preparation for helping Lance. Allura remembered all at once that her own uniform was still partway removed, and looked down at herself.

“Ah. Keith, would you mind zipping me up?”

“What? Oh, uh, okay.”

Allura was just barely pulling her armor’s chest piece back on when Lance stumbled down the ramp, wings up and curled around his front to hide whatever he was holding.

“Lance!” Hunk yelled, already moving forward to help prop him up. Allura winced at the yell, but didn’t move to stop him. If Lance was bothered by Hunk, who knew more about his life and magic than the rest of the team combined, he’d say so.

“Heeeeeeey, buddy,” Lance said, sagging sideways with a smile as Hunk got to him. “I may have succeeded a little _too_ well, if you know what I mean.”

“What are you ta— _no,_ ” Hunk said, blanching as he stared down at whatever was in Lance’s arms. “Oh my god. I thought you…”

“Yeah, well, I was more concerned about pumping out power than about controlling it for most of that, y’know?” Lance laughed. He shifted his attention back to the team. “So. Um. I bet you want an explanation.”

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked immediately.

“I will be,” Lance promised. “Just… hugs and blood and food and some Tier Three feeding. Anyway. Um. The fire. I may have done a hell-summoning.”

“As one does,” Pidge said flatly.

“Right. So, there was a lot of stuff going on. I’ll tell you more later. But, uh, hellfire is weird. Really weird. Space-time weird and magic weird. If you feed too much demonic power into it, weird stuff happens.” Lance bit his lip shifting a bit. “Like, uh… the fire gaining sentience.”

Allura felt her own eyebrows rise as her jaw dropped, and wasn’t ashamed to be one of the people shouting, “What?!”

Lance laughed nervously. “Not sapient, at least? But, uh, sentient, definitely. Kinda like Calcifer in Howl’s Moving Castle, but not as… well, not as sapient.”

Allura had no idea what the reference was.

“Lance, did you make a person?” Pidge demanded.

“Not a person!” Lance immediately protested. “Just… you know… this.”

He drew his wings back and around, revealing the small form in his arms.

A small kitten made of blue-gold fire sat there, prim and proper, staring out at them.

“Holy shit,” Pidge whispered.

“So, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this happen, just the first time I’ve done it myself, and this little lady shouldn’t burn anything now that her form’s been solidified,” Lance rattled off. “She’ll probably eat anything that can fuel a fire, so mostly wood and paper and things like that. Dry plant matter. The mice should be safe.”

“So what, the fire just… gained a brain and you gave it a shape?” Pidge asked. Allura looked over to see that Pidge was utterly fascinated, while Shiro looked like he was trying very hard not to bury his face in his hands.

“Kind of? Like, it wasn’t an immediate thing, but towards the end I made the fire take a shape and didn’t realize I was collecting the scraps of awareness that were floating around, since they kind of dragged themselves in because magic is… yeah. A thing. That happens.”

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Keith finally managed to say, sounding strangled. “You gave a fire a _soul_.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far… it’s still hellfire,” Lance said, looking down at the kitten, which yawned and let out a tiny little mewl.

“Oh my god,” Shiro groaned, finally giving in and bringing both hands up to his face. “Why is this my life?”

“Aliens and magic creatures,” Lance answered cheerily. “So, uh, yeah. Allura, can we keep her?”

“I…” Allura looked at the tiny kitten, which stared back with a tilted head. “If she poses no danger to the mice, and won’t be eating sensitive documents, hurting anyone, or setting things on fire by accident, then I suppose she can stay.”

Lance relaxed visibly, to the point where he fell almost bonelessly against Hunk. “Great.”

“Does she have a name?” Hunk asked.

“Nah, didn’t think of one,” Lance answered.

“Lucifer!” Pidge said immediately. “But with F-U-R instead of F-E-R!”

Lance blanched.

“More like Luci- _purr_ , am I right?” Hunk asked.

“We are not naming the cat after _Satan_ ,” Lance squeaked out, sliding down against Hunk to sit on the ramp, fire kitten still in his lap. She sneezed, and turned the flickering yellow-orange of a more normal fire.

“Isn’t she already made of hellfire, though?” Keith asked.

“…Lucy,” Lance finally said. “We can call her Lucy.”

“Luci-fur,” Pidge said happily. “Lucy for short.”

“Luci- _purr_ ,” Hunk argued back.

Lance groaned. “I hate you both.”

“A-hem,” Coran said, coughing into his gloved fist. “I believe we have some medical concerns to address?”

“…yeah, okay, let’s do this,” Lance sighed, getting up with Hunk’s help. “Time to go to the pods, I guess.”

o.o.o.o.o

Allura had to take care of other post-mission chores almost immediately, like telling the Blade about the gathered information, setting the Castle’s more thorough translation protocols on the files, and creating a typed record of the mission events to place in the Castle’s system.

It didn’t take too long, all told, but by the time she’d made it back to her quarters, she wasn’t surprised at all to find that Lance and Keith had both made their way there and engaged in coitus at least twice before she’d made it down. She paused just inside the doorway as it hissed shut behind her, watching the two cuddling on her bed, and thought to herself, _I can’t decide if Father would be proud or disappointed in me for this arrangement._

“Hey, ‘Llura,” Lance said, lifting his head to blink at her, a little bleary-eyed. “I don’t think Keith can go another round, but I’m ready if you are.”

“In a minute,” she sighed, beginning to undress. Lance pulled away from Keith and sat up a little more fully, snorting in amusement when Keith whined low in his throat and tried to drag him back into the embrace they’d held before she got there. Lance scooted back enough to comfortably run his fingers through Keith’s hair as the latter buried his face against Lance’s hip. “I feel as though I shouldn’t be so blasé about finding the two of you in my rooms even without me.”

“Are you bothered by it?” Lance asked. “We can stick to our rooms when it’s just the two of us, but since you said you’d be joining in anyway, I figured this was faster. Plus, your bed is nicer.”

“It is,” Allura agreed, finally bare of clothing. She made her way over to the bed and sat down as close as she could without crawling across it. “So, how would you like to do this?”

“I mean, after all the blood and just now with Keith, I should honestly be fine…” Lance admitted.

“Lance,” Allura sighed. “Let me help. This certainly isn’t a chore for me, you know. I get plenty out of this as well.”

Lance laughed a little, and moved away from Keith and closer to her. “Can’t argue with that. Concubus sex does tend to be… memorable.”

“Stop bragging,” Keith muttered, glaring up from his pillow. Scratch that, Allura thought; it was really more of a pout than a glare.

“But you’re so cute when you get all pouty,” Lance teased.

Keith turned his head to bury his face in Allura’s pillows.

Allura rolled her eyes and grabbed Lance by the hips, pulling him into her lap and pressing a kiss to the crook of his neck. “Lance?”

“…I want to eat you out,” he gasped, craning his head to give her better access. “And then you can fuck me from behind?”

“That works for me,” Allura agreed. “I’d like to do some more of this first, though.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely more foreplay,” Lance confirmed, wrapping his legs around her waist. “ _Definitely_ down for that.”

“Good,” Allura said.

Well, whether people would have looked down on her for her current arrangements or not, she was more than happy with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have three hours to finish a 2k word essay/research project for a class but I finished this for you guys instead._ Have fun. There's only one chapter left after this before the end of Arc Two. Chapter Thirty-Three will signify the beginning of the third arc, and the chapter naming schemes will reflect that change. We're going for Shakespeare quotes now.
> 
> Keith's kinks are "Boys who are terrifying as all hell and could kill me with ease, but are too nice to actually do it."  
> (FYI, my headcanon for Matt's kinks is similar, but less gender-specific.)
> 
> "Flyting" Lance you're not... quite using that word correctly.
> 
> I wasn't planning Keith knowing sign, but as I wrote the chapter it kind of just... made sense? Talked it over with my beta for a bit anyway, but yeah, that's a thing now. Apparently. The others are going to try to learn too, but I feel like things that involve a lot of rote memorization (like learning vocab lists for new languages, including ASL) are probably something Keith excels at.  
> Lance's demon voice is a bit like what Emilie Autumn does in the linked video, but more extreme and deeper.
> 
> That ice is eventually going to start melting and crash down as well, but it's ultimately going to do less damage than the fire accidentally spreading further than intended.
> 
> Considered if Hunk was being too rude here. Remembered how unintentionally rude he was in the Weblum episode.
> 
> Keith and Allura are awkward friends. Good friends! But both very awkward people, especially when around other awkward people who can't brush it off by force of personality. I like writing them.  
> Altean blood is a godsend.  
> Cat names are obviously puns. Lance is a little torn about the name because on the one hand, it's legitimately funny, but on the other hand... Catholic.  
> (Lucifer the kitten has been in the plans as an unintended side effect of Lance's fires since I was writing like... chapter ten.)
> 
> ...I really want to reiterate this: Allura is just as important to Lance as Keith is, and the three of the are equal partners in this arrangement. Despite writing this as a FWB, I don't mind if you want to interpret this as a romance. I can understand why you might, especially with shipper goggles on, and the difference between a strong friendship with sex and a romantic relationship isn't all that obvious to anyone other than the people involved. That said, I feel a little gross whenever the Klance gets brought up with Allura being considered an optional add-on. She's just as valid a partner as the boys are.
> 
> And going off of what I said last chapter... this is probably a good source chapter for art ideas too, ngl.


	32. Enchanter's Nightshade, Cinquefoil, Wood Sorrel, Achillea Millefolia, and Pheasant's Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season Finale Time, and one of the moments you've been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is eleven hours late. However, it's also the first chapter I've missed my self-imposed deadline for (I made it TWO WHOLE MONTHS WITHOUT SLIPPING UP), and the second-longest chapter of the fic so far, so... enjoy.  
> (Also, I got sick.)
> 
> Mentions of PTSD symptoms

“You’re really bad at this,” Lance said.

Pidge glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

“Let’s run through the step sequence again,” Lance suggested.

“Why am I even still _doing_ this?” Pidge complained, retaking the starting position and tensing as Lance counted off.

They moved through the steps, Lance guiding, and Pidge sighed as they reached the end of the sequence.

“I figured that you’d decided you couldn’t let something as simple as a dance class beat you,” Lance admitted.

“I’m doing it mostly for the flexibility training,” Shiro offered, having just run the same sequence with Allura. “The rest is just… relaxing, I guess.”

“You do seem like you’re trying to distract yourself…” Allura noted.

“…It’s Emiko’s birthday,” Shiro admitted. “I’m looking forward to calling her later.”

“Her birthday’s on Slava?” Pidge asked.

“What? Oh, the Serbian thing. Yeah, Matt was always a little annoyed by that. Wanted to come congratulate her, and not over the phone, but had… I want to say religious obligations?” Shiro gave Pidge a confused look.

“Really more cultural than religious,” Pidge said. “Good luck with getting the call through, aaaaaaaaand Lance? Can we stop now?”

“We can stop with the tango now if you want,” Lance said. “We’ve got the mirrors up, and like… another fifteen minutes before lunch. You can pick what you want to do for the rest of that time?”

Pidge eyed him for a moment, and then shrugged. “Hideaway, Don’t Stop, and Mr. Saxobeat?”

“…you really like the less formal styles, doncha?” Lance asked with a grin. “Alright, let’s go in alphabetical order, and then I’m pretty sure those two are going to make us break for lunch so we can do ‘real paladin training’ later.”

“We’re fighting a war, Lance,” Shiro said drily. “As much as I’m willing to let these dancing lessons take the place of cardio a few times a week, we do still have to train in combat.”

“Fiiiiiiine,” Lance whined, draping himself over Pidge’s shoulder. She took a step to the side and let him fall to the floor.

“You deserved that,” she told him.

“Deception!” Lance cried out, reaching for her ineffectually. “Disgrace! Evil as—”

“Paladins?”

Lance cut himself off and looked at the ceiling as Coran’s voice broadcast through the room.

“We’re here, Coran,” Shiro said. “Is there a problem?”

 “Not a problem, per se, but you may wish to come to the bridge as soon as possible.”

“Can I grab a shower first?” Pidge asked. “I’m all sweaty and stuff.”

“Yes, but make it quick,” Coran said. “I have a feeling you’re going to want to get up here as fast as possible. Actually… we have guests. I’ll take them to the recreation center instead.”

He didn’t say anything else, and they all glanced at each other.

“He probably already called in Hunk from the kitchen,” Lance said. “And… Keith! Get down from the control booth!”

The front door to the training deck slid open with a hiss.

“I already did,” Keith said, crossing his arms as he leaned against a wall. “See you in five.”

“You already trained this morning, yes?” Allura asked.

“And showered before you guys got here for your dance stuff,” Keith confirmed. “I’ll go wait in the rec center.”

“We really should be doing cooldowns,” Lance said, linking his arms above his head and doing his best to stretch as they walked towards the showers.

“We can do them in the shower,” Pidge suggested.

“That sounds like a recipe for a concussion,” Lance said. “Shiro?”

“Don’t do any stretches that could lead to you slipping and falling,” Shiro said. “I feel like ‘don’t hurt yourself doing something unnecessary’ is a fairly low bar to set.”

“One that we regularly fail to reach,” Lance said cheerily, turning around so he could shoot Shiro some finger guns while walking backgrounds.

“That’s not something to be proud of, Lance,” Allura said.

“Not proud, just stating facts,” Lance said, just as he tripped over a loose shoelace and fell on his ass.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and then Pidge started laughing. Allura giggled too, though Shiro just smiled as he palmed his face.

“Right. Let’s just… get this over with,” Shiro said, walking past Lance and over towards the men’s showers.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance yawned, rolling his head around a little as he headed for the rec center. Pidge and Shiro had been polite enough to wait for Lance and Allura to finish with their showers before heading out, which was honestly nice, in Lance’s mind. He and Allura both took significantly longer than the others, for their own reasons, so Pidge and Shiro waiting up was actually really sweet.

“Carry me,” Pidge demanded as soon as they were all outside the showers, and back in their casual clothes.

Lance looked over at Allura and Shiro, not entirely sure who Pidge was talking to. After a moment, he shrugged and pulled Pidge up and around onto his back. “Comfortable?”

“Not as comfortable as I would be if Hunk was the one giving me a piggy-back ride,” Pidge declared. “You’re all bones.”

“Too bad,” Lance said. “Now… _chaaaaaaaaaarge!”_

And with that, he took off down the hall, screaming in unison with Pidge.

“Oh god no,” Shiro said, faint to Lance’s ears. His and Allura’s footsteps joined theirs a moment later. “Lance! Pidge! Slow down!”

Lance pouted but obliged, slowing down to a walk. Shiro and Allura got there a moment later, and Shiro frowned at them.

“What’s the big deal, boss man?” Lance asked.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine, what’s the big deal, Shiro?”

“You don’t know why Coran called us up,” Shiro said. “All we know is that it was sudden and but not entirely urgent. What if there are diplomats waiting on the other side, or the Blade? At least wait until you know what we’re dealing with before you goof off in front of someone we should maybe be making a good impression on.”

“…yes, sir,” Lance sighed, pulling a funny face out of Shiro. Lance made an annoyed face of his own as Shiro shook his head and reached out to ruffle Lance’s hair. “Shiro, I _just_ styled that.”

“Don’t make fun of your commanding officer next time, then,” Shiro told him, hitting the button to open the doors to the rec center.

Lance barely got a look at the room, his stomach doing an odd little twist as he noticed that there were far more people in the room than there should be, because a little girl’s scream hit his ears almost as soon as they passed through the doorway.

“Daddy!”

Shiro looked like he was in shock as an excited, newly nine-years-old girl slammed into him. After a moment, his hands came down to rest on her shoulders as he stared down with wide eyes.

“Emiko?” He breathed out.

She pulled away from the hug and grinned up at him. “Miss Mari said she could bring me to see you for my birthday!”

He looked up at Marisol, who gave him a little wave and drawled, “Surprise, pretty boy.”

Shiro looked down again, and then sank to his knees and pulled his daughter into a hug. There was a glimmer to his eyes before he shut them, one that indicated that he was very much on the verge of tears. “Hey, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

Lance probably would have kept watching, honestly, just because of the drama, except he heard Pidge whisper into his ear as she realized who else was in the room.

“Mama?”

And Lance… Lance would have watched that too, but that was the point at which he noticed identical, sharp-edged grins being sent his way by the _other_ children in the room.

“Oh no,” he said, and then made his decision. “Allura, catch!”

He threw Pidge, who maybe yelled in surprise, and then turned to meet the rushing under-tens that jumped much higher than a normal child would have in order to hit his chest and take him down.

Lance was not ashamed to admit that he screamed like he was the age of his attackers.

“Lance!” Teo and Diana yelled in unison as they landed on him, hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

“Man down, man down!” Lance yelled. “Somebody help!”

He wrestled with his little siblings for a minute, occasionally shouting things like “Mayday!” and “Requesting backup!” and very much ignoring the rest of the room in favor of trying to keep track of both kids at the same time. When he had Teo pinned, Diana snuck around behind him. When he had Diana in his sights, Teo went missing. It was very frustrating, but he’d missed it. It had been… god, what was it? Eight months? Nine? Well over half a year since he’d seen them.

“Alas, alack!” Lance dramatized, stumbling over to a wall and sinking down along it. “I am slain!”

He slumped over, stopped his heart, and pretended he was properly, truly dead.

“Some dead or mostly dead?” Diana asked.

“Looks like all dead,” Teo declared, faking sadness.

“Only one thing left to do!” Marisol called over.

“Go through his pockets for loose change,” they declared in unison.

“Nope, nope, not doing that!” Lance spontaneously ‘came back to life’ and stood up, dusting himself off. “You two,” he said, picking up one child under each arm. “Have been spending _way_ too much time with the twins.”

“No such thing,” Diana said.

“I could tell them you said that,” Teo offered. “I’m sure they’d _love_ to hear about that.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” Lance asked, on the edge of laughter. “You’re _seven_.”

“I’m an enterprising soul,” Teo said.

“…and who taught you that phrasing?” Lance asked.

“Mom,” Diana said. “She was trying to get us to read something other than Sci Fi and Fantasy.”

“Yeah?”

“Our lives are a fantasy novel,” Teo said. “The books are funny. And _your_ life is basically science fiction. I don’t see the problem.”

“What level are you at right now?” Lance asked.

“Middle school level books, for me,” Teo said. “I think Diana’s reading at the fourth-grade level. She’s been trying to get into the romances, though.”

“Even Mamá won’t let me look at some of them,” Diana complained. “What does ‘harlequin romance novel’ even _mean_ , then? What makes it so different from the others?”

“You’re _five_ ,” Lance choked back his laughter. “Give it a few years, holy smokes.”

“Try Harry Potter or something first,” Marisol suggested, coming closer and taking Teo from under Lance’s grip. “Also? It is _entirely_ possible to spend too much time with Ricardo and Roberto. They’re terrible influences on you.”

“On _everyone_ ,” Lance added.

“Spin us?” Diana asked as Lance readjusted her to sit on his hip. “Hunk’s busy talking to Tía Elei and Tía Arihi.”

“Alright, alright,” Lance sighed, glancing around the room to make sure everyone else was fine. Pidge was talking to her mom, and Shiro had moved to the couch with Emiko. An Asian blonde was standing against a wall and watching them; Lance didn’t recognize her, but he had a feeling that this was Haley. Hunk was indeed talking to his moms in one corner, and Keith and Coran looked to be in a conversation with Nina. Keith was actually in the middle of passing her a bottle, with Coran and Nina both staring at him in apparent consternation.

Lance was… not going to touch that.

“Spin us!” Teo yelled, launching himself from Marisol’s grasp onto Lance’s shoulder, barely avoiding Diana.

“Careful!” Lance yelped, readjusting how he stood. He looked around a little as he held his arms up into the air and let Diana and Teo clamber up to hang off of them, one on each. Allura was watching with interest.

“What I’m about to do is something you probably _shouldn’t_ do with fully human children,” Lance told her. “Thankfully, these brats are half-demon.”

“Hell yeah we are!” Teo crowed.

“Hey! Watch your language!” Lance said, the reflex still not gone. “Or Mari’s gonna tell Mom and Mamá.”

“Not Papá?” Diana asked.

“He’d just laugh,” Marisol lamented. “Unfortunately.”

“Exactly,” Lance said. “Now, hold on tight, you two.”

And he started turning on the spot, over and over and over. Diana and Teo screamed in his ears, having as much fun as they always did with this, clinging onto his elbows for… well, not for dear life, because they knew to go demon immediately if they slipped, and would barely get a bruise if they fell in demon form, but they had more fun holding on than they did falling off.

At least, that was how it was before Lance sped up, at which point they screamed a little more, then let go and flared their wings, using the moment from the spinning to fly off in wobbly patterns that showed just how dizzy they were. Lance met Marisol’s gaze for a split second, and then both went fully smoke to catch a child.

“Still dizzy?” Lance asked, holding Diana out at arm’s length. She giggled, kicking her legs back and forth as her head tilted from side to side, trying to regain her sense of balance after the spinning.

“This is… normal for your family?” Allura asked.

“Very,” Lance assured her. “I haven’t done it in a while since I got too big for it, though.”

“…I could do it,” Allura said.

Lance stared at her for a moment, and then looked down at Diana.

“I wanna see it!”

“The kid wants to see it,” Lance said solemnly. “Okay, diablito, you’ll get to see it. Just need someone that weighs about the same and isn’t busy…”

The choice was obvious. “Hey, Keith! Get that pretty little booty of yours over here!”

Keith looked over, one hand on his hip (and looking utterly delectable, in Lance’s humble opinion), and raised an eyebrow. “Why were you staring at my a—my butt?”

“Language!” Lance sing-songed, teasing. “And get over here. Allura’s about to help us do something stupid.”

“Oh, well, if that’s all…” Keith said, sarcasm in every word, but he made his way over anyway. “What are we doing?”

Allura held her hands up, like she was showing off her biceps (which, to be fair, she kind of was), and Lance grabbed on to the crook of one elbow with both hands.

Keith stared for a long moment. “The same thing you were just doing with—”

“Yeah.”

“…okay,” Keith said, agreeing way too easily, and grabbed on to Allura’s other arm.

“Everyone back away,” Marisol ordered, though that only really applied to Diana and Teo at the moment.

“Is this advisable?” Coran asked.

“No,” Nina said flatly. “It’s not.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut and trotted along for the first few moments, since he was taller than Allura, but she quickly reached a speed that took him up off the ground.

It was _stupid_ how much he enjoyed this, but honestly? No shame. No shame whatsoever.

“Enough!” Keith yelled after a bit, and Allura slowed down on the spinning, stumbling a little herself as she readjusted.

Lance moved to steady them as soon as his feet were on the ground again, laughing. “Oh my god, that was so stupid.”

“Why did we do that?” Keith asked.

“Allura wanted to prove she could,” Lance said. “And Diana said she wanted to see it.”

“Diana’s the baby,” Teo explained, as though he was much older himself. “So we gotta keep her happy.”

“Exactamente,” Diana said, nodding. Lance rolled his eyes and picked her up, throwing her high up into the air before catching her again. She squealed, not even bothering with her wings as Lance threw and caught her again.

“I’m so glad you guys are less breakable than humans,” Marisol said, Teo sitting on her shoulders. “Or this would be much more worrying.”

“Considering what our lives are usually like,” Keith said. “I’d be more worried about a Galra attack than about something you guys do all the time anyway.”

“…don’t tempt fate, kid,” Marisol said. “Look at your situation. Look at your life. Look at your _self_. Tell me if tempting fate is something that you can afford to do.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Keith said.

Lance and Marisol exchanged a look, and then gave him unconvincing smiles.

“…I hate you,” Keith said. “So much.”

“It’s like hell,” Lance offered, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “We’re not  _entirely_  sure what the truth is…”

“But let’s face it: can you really risk it?” Marisol asked, doing the same from the other side.

"Hate you."

o.o.o.o.o

“So,” Shiro said, entering the kitchen. “Any reason why you came, in particular?”

Hayley looked up from where she was working on a laptop and smiled. There was a yellow notepad next to the computer, filled with shorthand notes. “Expecting one of your grandparents?”

“Expecting is a strong word,” Shiro said. “Considering I had no idea you were coming in the first place.”

“Minako thought I’d be a little more useful in an emergency, since I’m in the prime of life, and she… isn’t,” Hayley explained.

Shiro nodded. “Right. That’s… that makes sense.”

“I don’t even know what’s going on in that woman’s head most of the time,” Hayley admitted, readjusting her glasses. “But I’m sure she’s got some reason for it.”

“She always does,” Shiro agreed. He took a seat next to her. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’ve been working on a paper for the museum,” Hayley said. “I mean, I’m still working at the public middle school, but the more I do for the museum, the more likely I am to get the job.”

“Good luck,” Shiro said, glancing over what he could see of the screen. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be, Takashi,” Hayley said, sighing. “Honestly, though, if you could get me some books on alien art history, I could maybe make enough forays into that to start carving out a niche for myself comparing human art movements to alien ones.”

“The translation matrix has some trouble with writing,” Shiro warned her. “So the books might not be that easy to get through.”

Hayley bit her lip, tapping her pen against the table. “I think I could find some linguistics majors that would be excited to look into alien languages.”

“Yeah?”

“Watch yourself, Takashi, I had friends in school, too.” She tapped the end of his nose with her pen, laughing when he went cross-eyed. “Man, I missed you.”

“Thought you just said you had friends,” Shiro said.

“Yeah, but there’s something to be said for the ex whose child you mothered,” Hayley said, then sighed. “Or something.”

“You’re not regretting things, are you?” Shiro asked.

“God no,” Hayley said, making a face. “You did super well with her until the alien abduction, and I… couldn’t have done that. I was just trying to figure out how to phrase that without making it sound weird.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shiro said. “I know what you mean.”

“Good,” Hayley sighed. “So, why aren’t you with Emiko?”

Shiro winced. “That’s… complicated.”

“Talk to me.”

“…half the castle is doing a group sleepover in the rec center,” Shiro said. “So she’s not alone, at least.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Hayley prompted him.

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the countertop. “I’m… I told you I don’t remember most of my year with the Galra.”

“I did read your letter, yes,” Hayley said.

“It… still had its effects,” Shiro said carefully.

“…PTSD nightmares?”

Shiro nodded.

“You don’t want her knowing.”

“That’s not… entirely the problem,” Shiro said. “I don’t always know where I am as soon as I wake up. I don’t always know I’m in a safe place, or even realize that I’m not… at the Arena anymore. Sometimes I’m attacking before I even wake up completely, or my arm activates while I’m still caught in a nightmare. She’d… if I was in the same room, or god forbid, the same _bed_ …”

“You’re scared you’d hurt her without even realizing it,” Hayley realized. “That’s… not quite what I expected.”

Shiro grabbed Hayley’s notepad, tearing off a clean sheet. He turned his arm on for a moment, and put the paper in the palm of it. In seconds, it was burned to a crisp, and Shiro turned his arm back off.

Hayley’s eyes tracked up from the paper to meet his again, but his were still on the ashes in his hand.

“I wouldn’t trust myself to sleep within arm’s reach of one of my teammates, and they’re actually trained soldiers at this point. Not even the Alteans, or a member of the Blade, and they’ve trained for years, and have physical capabilities beyond the human,” Shiro said. “Emiko is… I can’t risk that. I can’t risk _her_.”

“I get it,” Hayley said, reaching out and patting his shoulder. “But… how much sleep do you normally get?”

“Not enough,” Shiro admitted. “I have a pretty strict schedule, and sometimes there are alarms while we’re asleep, and that’s on top of the trouble I have sleeping, even on my own. I’m dealing with it.”

“There’s someone keeping an eye out for you, right?”

“Coran, mostly.” Shiro nodded. “Could we… talk about something else?”

“Well… Marisol’s been flirting.”

“Really?”

“She was a little disappointed when I told her I’m the token straight friend of pretty much any group I end up in,” Hayley laughed. “She pouted for like three seconds, and then asked me if that meant I had any single friends looking for hookups.”

“Was she joking?”

“Honestly? No idea. We ended up getting into a conversation about one of my coworkers that I’ve been on a few dates with.”

“Oh? I don’t know anyone you work with, but…”

“Math teacher. Kind of a goof. Really into Star Trek, and one of the dates was laser tag.” Hayley shrugged. “I’ll give it a few more weeks before I try to say if it’s working or not, but he’s nice so far, and we’ve had fun.”

“Name? Age?” Shiro asked. “I feel like I should have more questions.”

“Bahadur Hakim,” she said. “Twenty-eight, so not much older than us. We’ll see where it goes.”

“Right…” Shiro said, eyes turning back to the table.

After a moment, Hayley spoke up again. “You know, I brought some instant coffee in my overnight bag. I’ve got some extra if you’d like it. I still haven’t figured out how to use this kitchen.”

“It’s been over half a year and honestly? Neither have I,” Shiro laughed. “But I think I can heat up some water.”

“Go on, then,” Hayley said, reaching down into the bag next to her chair and pulling out the ground coffee. “Bet it’s been a while since you had some anyway.”

“…yeah. It’s been a while for a lot of things.”

“Which non-angsty thing do you miss most?”

Shiro thought that over for a long moment. “Chocolate.”

“…yeah, that’s fair.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Is that even _legal?”_ Keith was asking when Lance walked in the next morning.

“It’s a set amount of money that he wagered, and we’re both old enough to legally gamble, so…” Marisol shrugged. “It really depends on the legality of using someone else’s credit card _with_ their permission.”

“Did I miss something?” Lance asked. “I feel like I missed a story.”

“Well, we haven’t heard it in full _yet,_ ” Pidge said. “My mom mentioned that Marisol used someone else’s credit card to pay Nina for her part of the trip, since everyone pitched in a little since… it’s expensive.”

“I am teleporting you people _billions of light years_ ,” Nina groused. “It’s for a good cause, for friends, for whatever, but… dude. I need to make money somehow, and this was complicated as all hell.”

“Right,” Pidge said. “Anyway. Marisol was just about to tell us… I think?”

“Whose credit card?” Lance asked, taking a seat. “Also, who’s cooking?”

“I think Hunk and his moms are using it as an opportunity to hang out,” Keith said.

“Huh. Yeah, I see it.” Lance tapped his fingers against the table. “So, whose card, then?”

Marisol didn’t meet his eyes.

“Please don’t tell me it’s a fae’s.”

“It’s not a fae’s,” she said immediately.

“…it’s Gaius’s, isn’t it?” Lance asked, already knowing the answer. “When. _Why_. How did you end up with an ancient vampire fuckboy’s credit card?”

“So…” Marisol said, licking her lips. “Remember how I mentioned running into him in Albany?”

“Yeeeeeeees?” Lance drew the word out.

“Who’s Gaius?” Colleen asked.

“Her World of Warcraft rival that she once got into a knife fight with,” Lance said, not even looking away from his sister.

“So the thing is, I didn’t want to get stabbed again,” Marisol explained. “So I challenged him to a game of poker. Minor stakes, mostly.”

“Mostly?” Lance asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marisol said, ignoring the fact that Lance was _very much going to worry_. “Anyway, we went back and forth for most of the night, and we’d mostly evened out at the end of the night. I came out ahead when I won one of his credit cards off of him, with stipulations.”

Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Three hundred dollars per month for ten years,” Marisol said, smirking. “And yes, he’s obligated to replace the card if it’s about to expire.”

“…well, at least you didn’t—”

“And then we slept together.”

“For Pete’s sake, Mari!” Lance cried out, throwing his hands up in the air and then falling forward across the table. “Why?”

“He may be a fuckboy, but he’s hot,” Marisol said, shrugging. “And despite everything, he does measure up to my moral and ethical standards, which is really all I need for a one-night stand with a person I already know.”

“I’m so glad none of the kids are here,” Pidge muttered.

“ _You’re_ a kid,” Lance said.

“Weren’t you my age when you started sleeping around?” Pidge asked.

“…shut up,” Lance said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Pidge snorted. “If you’re allowed to have sex at fifteen, I’m allowed to _hear_ about someone else doing the do.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“I will _cut you_ ,” Pidge hissed, standing up and leaning over the table towards Lance.

“You will do no such thing,” Colleen said, putting a hand on Pidge’s shoulder and pulling her back down into her seat. Pidge made a face, hunkering down in her seat.

“Sad that you’ve got a parent telling you what to do again, short shit?” Lance teased.

“Keep talking and I’m telling your sister about what happened on Rovv’ixben,” Pidge threatened.

“I have no shame, Pidge. Try again.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Arihi’s been thinking about going veg again,” Elei said, examining the Altean stove with a critical eye. “Can you help me get this thing up to three-fifty Fahrenheit?”

“Yeah, just… here, you have to make sure this button’s on first, and then—the conversion system’s _ridiculous_ , but Pidge and I got it to accept having Fahrenheit and Celsius settings, and Earth’s numerals—you just choose this setting and input the numbers,” Hunk explained. “Also, _why?”_

“Oh, I haven’t been considering it _seriously_ ,” Arihi said. “I just feel like I need to consider the health benefits once in a while. And the environmental positives, of course; do you have any idea how many greenhouse gasses are produced by the livestock industry?”

“Yes, Mom,” Hunk said, shaking his head. “But I’ve kind of had bigger things to worry about.”

“Like this war of yours,” Elei said.

“We said we weren’t going to bother him about that,” Arihi muttered, elbowing her wife.

“Just bringing it up,” Elei said, tone deceptively light. “If he doesn’t want to discuss it, we can go back to the small talk.”

“I don’t mind talking about it,” Hunk said, a little awkward. “Just… if I ask you not to follow a certain topic, take my word for it?”

“We… you’ve just already told us so much,” Arihi said. “We didn’t want to bother you _now,_ when we’ve only got a few days to see you properly. We don’t want to ruin our time here by making you uncomfortable… or starting a fight, goodness me.”

“It’s fine… it’s kind of my job now, anyway. My _life_.” Hunk shrugged and looked away, poking his fingers together. “Kind of hard to talk about most of my day without bringing up _something_ related to Voltron. Training, or looking through data, or working with Pidge on upgrades for the Lions is… most of my day.”

“Oh, sweetie…” Arihi bustled forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. “This is why I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“I’m not… it’s not that bad?” Hunk said. “I’ve got Lance, at least, and I’ve been getting along with the others pretty well. I’ve got _friends_ , and I can bake when I’m stressed, and we’ve been figuring out hobbies and stuff to do to keep from getting cabin fever. It’s… it _could_ be a lot worse.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Elei said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions now, I’ll admit, but it’s just… so much, Hunk.”

“I know,” he said, ducking his head down so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. He hugged Arihi closer. “I just… I guess it’s a sense of duty at this point? I’ve seen… _so_ many people suffering under the Galra Empire. We’ve freed entire planets. I can’t just leave them now, right?”

“We get it,” Elei said, pushing away from the counter and coming over to join the hug. “It’s just… hard to know you’re out here risking your life for a war we haven’t even been aware of, right when you should be… graduating from the Garrison, or getting into trouble in the _normal_ teenager way, or falling in love, or any number of things.”

“I mean… I have gotten into _some_ of the normal teenage trouble,” Hunk said. “And… it’s not love, definitely not yet, but you know how I mentioned the Balmera? There was a girl there, Shay, and… Okay, so she’s basically a rock person, but we’ve seen weirder interspecies relationships, right?”

Arihi and Elei exchanged a look. Elei laughed softly and went back to cooking, while Arihi grabbed Hunk by the elbows and took him to the chairs on the other side of the counter. “Tell me about her.”

“She’s… one of the bravest people I’ve met since coming out here, and so _selfless_ , too. I mean, I’ve met a lot of people, and a lot of them are soldiers or whatever, but she was just… the entire population of the Balmera was enslaved, had been for generations, and their home was totally ravaged, but when we said we could help, Shay was the first to believe us, and risked her life to help us help _her_. She almost died because she trusted us, but she got out okay, and like… personality-wise, she’s one of the softest people I’ve met, until you reach her limit. Then she can cause like… entire _rockfalls_ on you.”

“No kidding?” Elei asked.

“Let the boy speak!” Arihi chastised. She turned back to Hunk. “Does she know you like her?”

“Maybe? We talk a lot whenever I visit, but I’m not sure how much the species thing gets in the way,” Hunk admitted.

“What does she look like?” Arihi asked.

“I—hold on—I have a picture somewhere,” Hunk said, digging through his pockets and pulling out his phone, augmented for space. “Here.”

“Oh my,” Arihi said, hand to her chest as she looked at the picture. It was of Hunk and Shay next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders, taken by Lance just a week or two ago. “She’s taller than you!”

“Really?” Hunk asked. “That’s what you’re commenting on?”

“Well, you already said she was basically a rock person,” Arihi said, giving him a look. “You didn’t say she was _taller_ than you! Do you know how hard it is to find someone like that at our family’s heights?”

“You managed, dear,” Elei said.

“I mean, the Balmerans are all pretty big,” Hunk said. “A lot of species are.”

“You know what I mean, dear,” Arihi said. “Are there more pictures?”

“Um, yeah. I’ve got a handful here,” Hunk said, and spent the next few minutes showing his moms more pictures of Shay, the Balmera, and eventually just pictures from the past however many months in general. He looked up at one point to see Elei watching him with a small smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said with a small laugh. “Just… it’s interesting to see my little boy all grown up.”

“Moooom,” Hunk whined as Elei reached forward to pinch his cheeks. “C’mon, really?”

“Mm-hm,” she said, nodding. “I think… I think it’s time for you to start thinking about tattoos.”

Hunk felt his eyes widen. “…oh?”

“You’re going to have some interesting stories to tell when you get home, Hunk,” she told him. “You don’t need to commit to anything yet, but maybe start thinking about what you want to include in the designs, eventually. When this is all over, we’ll go visit your grandparents in Samoa, and see if we can’t get the process started.”

“I don’t…” Hunk looked down at his lap. “I don’t know when this is going to be over. _If_ it’s going to be over. And… and the process takes _months_ , so—”

“So we’ll figure something out,” Arihi said, putting her hands on his. She smiled at him. “If it takes longer than you expect, we’ll work something out long-distance. If you can come home for a while after the war, but need to keep going out because… what was the phrase that man used? ‘Voltron is always needed?’ Then we’ll speak with the professionals when you can visit and call long-distance when you can’t. There are a lot of options, Hunk. We’ll work something out. Okay?”

Hunk nodded after a moment. “Yeah. Okay.”

o.o.o.o.o

The Green Lion rumbled out a greeting as Pidge entered the hangar, her mother behind her.

“Oh my,” Colleen said, hand to her mouth.

“Yeah,” Pidge said. She wasn’t entirely sure what, exactly, her mom was so shocked by, because there was a lot, but it was something.

“That’s… much bigger in person. You said the Green Lion was the smallest of them all?” Colleen asked.

“Funny coincidence: the lion’s sizes actually correspond to the paladin heights. Shiro’s lion is the biggest, mine’s smallest, and Lance is smack-dab in the middle,” Pidge said, and then shrugged. “Kinda makes a weird amount of sense with Lance, though; before he told us he wasn’t totally human, I’d have said he was more or less average at everything except his aim, when it comes to fighting. He’s better at other stuff, like his dancing and stuff like that, but he’s still weirdly middling at all the non-shooty stuff.”

“Pidge, you really could stand to be a little more specific in your wording,” Colleen said.

“…važi, važi,” Pidge said, and hid her grin when she saw her mom’s face lighten up. She’d known switching languages would make her mom happy.

“Hey Green!” Pidge called out, striding forward. “I’ve got someone for you to meet!”

The Green Lion leaned forward and down, seeming to stare at both Holts for a long moment before she opened her mouth. Pidge grinned and gestured at the ramp. “After you.”

“It’s safe without a suit?” Colleen asked.

“Definitely,” Pidge said, following her up and then leading her towards the stairs. “Besides, everyone’s getting a ride in a Lion today, ‘cept for Allura and Coran.”

“Nope,” Keith said as Pidge sat down in the cockpit, screen flickering on. “You’d be wrong. Allura came with me.”

Allura leaned forwards over the shoulder of Keith’s seat and waved. “Hello, Pidge! Colleen.”

“Hey, Princess,” Pidge said, going over the pre-flight checks the way she was supposed to, whenever she had the time. “We’re all ready?”

“Boom, I’m here,” Lance declared, and Keith’s screen faded as Pidge switched to audio-only. “Got the brats and Mari and even Nina.”

“Hey, I want to ride around in a giant laser cat as much as anyone,” Nina said, her voice faint but still audible to Lance’s microphones.

“Yo,” Hunk said. “Yellow’s online.”

“And I’ve got Emiko and Hayley over in Black,” Shiro said. “Coran, you’re sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“Someone has to say behind to run the Castle,” Coran reminded him. “And I’m sure I’ll have a chance to come along sometime.”

“Right,” Shiro said, laughing softly. “Well then, let’s go!”

There was a chorus of excited shouting, and Pidge wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was one of them. Her mom was making more of a whimpering noise, because being in a Lion that you weren’t piloting yourself could be genuinely terrifying.

Pidge had learned that back when the entire team had been clinging to Lance and screaming in fear the first time they found Blue.

“Hey Pidge,” Lance said, with a note in his voice that Pidge didn’t like in the slightest. She looked around for Blue warily, and grit her teeth when she couldn’t find her.

“What?”

“…tag!” Lance yelled, as Green shook a little, registering the barest glancing blow of Blue’s ice cannon against the tip of her tail.

“Pička ti materina!” Pidge swore, her mind already a little reaccustomed to speaking something other than English after spending the last day or so with her mother.

“Katarina!” And there it was. “Ko ti je dao pravo da tako pričaš?”

“Videla si šta je uradio!” Pidge retorted immediately as she urged Green to speed off after Blue.

“To ne znači da smeš da psuješ!” Colleen shouted, more because of the inertia from Pidge swerving than any real anger.

“Chatter off the comms!” Shiro said. “Especially when no one has any idea what you’re saying!”

“We’re not even on a mission, Shiro,” Keith said.

“I’m going to agree that we should probably stick to something people understand on the comms, though.” Hunk said. “The Castle isn’t translating you guys, and while I don’t care usually, it’s kind of distracting on the comms.”

“I got it,” Pidge said. “I’ll stick to English if Lance doesn’t _attack me again_.”

“It was a love tap,” he said, so utterly innocent that it could only be bullshit.

“Uh-huh. Wanna say that to my vines?”

“Keep your creepy hentai blaster _away_ from the Lions, Pidge.” Keith said.

“Keith?” Shiro said, his voice light. “You do remember that the audio channels are currently broadcasting to the entire cockpit and not just the helmets, right?”

“…shit.”

“I’m bringing back the swear jar, Keith.”

“…quiznak,” Keith said.

o.o.o.o.o

Pidge landed back in Green’s hangar, and took off her helmet, shaking out her hair. Her chair shot back halfway, not quite retracting fully, but giving her leg room now that they were back in the Castle.

“You know, I never expected either of you to become pilots,” Colleen said. “You and Matt were always more interested in building things than in flying them.”

Pidge looked down at her helmet. “So… do you approve?”

“Not in the slightest,” Colleen said. “But at this point, I doubt I could stop you. You’re… too young for a war. Shiro, I understand. Those Alteans? No question. Even Hunk, at least, is an adult. You, though? My little girl?”

Pidge ducked her head a little further. She felt a hand land in her hair.

“Milo moje, gledaj me u oči,” Colleen sighed, coming around in front of her and kneeling. “I don’t approve. I’m terrified, every day. You, your brother, your father… I lost _all_ of you, and now there’s a chance you’ll come home safe one day, and that I still might lose you? It’s almost worse than thinking you were dead.”

Pidge bit her lip and willed back the tears.

“But don’t you _ever_ doubt how proud I am of you,” Colleen said. “You’re doing something nobody else could. You are freeing countless numbers of people, and you’re looking for Matt and your dad every day. You’re smart enough to hack computers used by aliens that have been traveling the stars for millennia. You are… Katarina, you are _everything_ I could have ever hoped for in a daughter, okay? I’m _so_ proud of you, honey. I’m terrified I could lose you, but don’t _ever_ doubt how proud I am of you.”

Pidge closed her eyes and gave up on trying not to cry, just leaned forward and let her mom pull her into a hug.

“Eto, plači kol’ko god moraš,” Colleen sighed. “Mama te drži.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Can I see?” Emiko asked, eyes bright and excited and just a little unnerving.

Keith leaned back. “Uh…”

“I know you’re carrying your spare crystal,” Pidge said.

Keith shot her a look, then turned back to Emiko, more than aware that all the other visitors were watching him too.

Lance elbowed him in the side.

“Fine,” Keith finally said. “But no tugging on the fur, ears, or tail. Okay?”

“Okay!” Emiko said, linking her hands behind her and bouncing on her toes. “I wanna see what you look like when you’re purple, Uncle Keith!”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already seen it in pictures,” Keith muttered, but reached into his pocket and pulled out the crystal. His fingers turned purple, and the discoloration crept up his arm as he fiddled with the little bracelet that Hunk and Lance had made, designed to hold the crystal and hug it tight to the skin instead of just flopping around.

“Whoa,” Emiko breathed, the word echoed by Diana and Teo as they came closer too.

Keith shifted nervously on the spot, tail lashing as it grew out through the hole Lance had sewn into his pants.

Emiko’s eyes were riveted on his head. “Your _ears_.”

“Yeah, they’re… yeah.” Keith wasn’t sure how to address that.

“Can I touch them?” She asked, hands still tucked behind her back, but up on her toes as she looked over him.

“I… yeah, okay, but no tugging, remember?” Keith sat down on the couch and watched Emiko clamber on up next to him, getting up on her knees so she could lean against his shoulder and reach up to the ears.

“They’re so _soft_ ,” she said, her voice wondering. “Like… like a chinchilla!”

“When did you feel a chinchilla?” Shiro asked, sitting on the couch opposite. He sounded amused, the bastard.

“Grandma took me to a petting zoo a few months ago,” Emiko said. “Wow. Do you let people play with your ears a lot?”

“Mostly Lance,” Keith said. “Sometimes Allura, or Shiro. Pretty much everyone on board’s done it at least a few times since I figured out how to go Galra, though.”

“You have a tail!” Diana said, poking at it. Keith flicked it away from her, pulling it into his lap and eyeing her distrustfully.

She gave him an angelic smile, which was particularly ironic, in his opinion.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Why not?” She asked, Teo coming up behind her and joining in on the sad kitty eyes.

“Lance told me about what you did in Rio.”

Their faces fell, and they shot Lance matching glares.

“He asked about family nonsense,” Lance said, shrugging. “It was an interesting story.”

“What happened in Rio?” Emiko asked.

“Nothing you need to hear about right now, kid,” Marisol said, before her own little siblings could try explaining. “Maybe later.”

“The fire wasn’t _that_ big…” Teo muttered.

“Oh god,” Keith said, staring at him. He looked up at Lance. “Your entire _family_ is like this.”

“This explains so much,” Pidge said.

“I feel like I should be offended,” Lance said. “But honestly? Go suck an egg, my family’s _amazing.”_

“So soft,” Emiko said again, apparently having decided that the conversation was boring and gone back to playing with Keith’s ears.

“I’m a little curious myself,” Hayley admitted, eyeing Keith’s head with undisguised interest.

“…five seconds,” Keith said, and ignored her laughter as he closed his eyes and waited. He ended up shifting Emiko to his lap and letting her play with his tail instead as Hayley took a turn. He felt a tugging on his sleeve and turned to see Diana and Teo smiling brightly at him.

“No.”

“Please?”

“Keith, they’re not going to set your hair on fire or anything,” Lance said, draping himself over the back of the couch. “They’re good… well, decent kids.”

 Keith looked at Lance for a moment, and then back at the two children. He narrowed his eyes. “No tugging.”

“Promise!” Diana said.

Teo nodded solemnly.

Keith inclined his head and let them play with his ears for a few moments. Unsurprisingly, that started to hurt his neck, so he sat up straight again pretty quickly.

This was, of course, the point in time at which the vent on the ceiling popped open. Keith didn’t look up in time to get a warning, but Emiko screamed a little when a flaming orange cat landed on her lap, along with three small mice on its back as passengers, and a larger fourth one plopping down a moment later.

Lucy sat in Emiko’s lap, staring at her, and then started washing one paw.

“Um,” Emiko said, and then didn’t continue.

Keith looked over at Shiro, who had once again buried his face in his hands with a defeated groaning noise.

“Oh, _Lance_ ,” Elei said. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I, uh…” Lance got up from where he’d been slouching over the back of the couch, and tried not to meet Hunk’s moms’ eyes. “I might have.”

“Might have what, exactly?” Colleen asked.

“…entered a fire and then fed it so much demonic energy that it gained sentience?” Lance said, his voice getting progressively higher-pitched as he went on. “And, um, it wasn’t _sapient_ , at least, but I didn’t want to kill it, so I turned it into a cat?”

“You have a cat… that is literally made of hellfire,” Colleen said, as though seeking confirmation.

“We’re calling it Lucifur,” Pidge said. “F-U-R instead of F-E-R, though.”

“No, Luci- _purr!_ ” Hunk protested.

“How about we _don’t_ name a cat after Satan?” Lance said. “Lucy. Her name can be Lucy. Not a punny variation on Lucifer.”

“Is she safe?” Arihi asked, coming closer and crouching down next to Keith, reaching out with one hand to Lucy and the mice so they could sniff it.

“Probably,” Lance said. “But I’ve kind of been hoping to get Nina and Mari to take a look at her.”

“Toss her here,” Marisol said, holding up her hands like she was about to catch a football.

“Or, and this is just a suggestion,” Lance said, “I could carry her over.”

“That’s so much less fun, though.”

Keith watched as Lance rolled his eyes and picked up Lucy, carrying her over to Marisol, who was joined by Nina a few seconds later.

“You have _mice_ ,” Emiko whispered, running her hand along Chuchule’s head. “They’re so cute!”

“They’re Allura’s,” Keith said. “Altean mice. Space mice. They’re… helpful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

o.o.o.o.o

“I’ll be coming back soon,” Marisol said, sitting down next to Coran the morning before she and the others were scheduled to leave. She was pretty sure no one else was awake yet, save for those with some degree of insomnia. “And I’m thinking I might stay longer.”

Coran looked at her, gauging. “You’re planning to join the team?”

Marisol made a face. “I’m not a soldier. Don’t think I _could_ be. But… I think I could at least be useful. For distractions, if nothing else. Whether it’s with hellfire like Lance did or just showing off a little extra skin, I’m good at distracting people. And I’ve got a medical degree; anything you can’t do with your fancy tech, there’s a good chance I’ve got the answer to it.”

“I’m afraid that might not be enough,” Coran said. “Then again, not all the paladins immediately had something to contribute when they arrived…”

“What do you need?” Marisol asked. “The semester is ending soon, and the university doesn’t want me working summers. I can take a break from the burlesque club and come right back later; they know I’m one of their top attractions. I want to help keep my little brother safe, and let’s face it: out of all the family members any of these kids have, I’m the most likely to make it through.”

“…any other skills that you think could contribute?” Coran asked.

“Anything Lance can do with concubus magic, I can do better; I’m older than he is, and I’m full-blooded succubus. You want that princess of yours learning magic? I’m more qualified as a teacher than he is. You need someone getting in and out of tight spaces or any place they’re not supposed to be? I can turn to smoke and get in. And if you need someone getting in and out unnoticed while Voltron’s doing its thing, Lance can’t be the one doing it.”

“I’ll speak with the princess about it,” Coran said, sighing. “But the fact of the matter is, we can’t support your diet. Lance is fine; he doesn’t _need_ your third tier, and even if he did, Keith and the princess are more than willing to provide. You… we cannot provide for you. We could not afford to make stops frequently enough for you to find your meals, as the vast majority of our stops are for missions, rather than anything that could help you. Even in regards to blood, it would be supremely uncomfortable for anyone involved.”

Marisol bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. That makes sense.”

“I understand that you—”

“I get it.”

“Please don’t interrupt me,” Coran said. His voice was mild, but there was an element of warning to it.

“…I’m going to go pack my things.”

o.o.o.o.o

“The castle feels empty now,” Lance said, staring at the faintly smoking sigils in the floor.

“I’m going to go train,” Keith said, setting off everyone else to declare their own intentions as well.

Lance was the only one left, towards the end, along with Coran.

“She mentioned wanting to stay, you know. Said she was going to talk to you about it,” Lance said. “Then she didn’t bring it up anymore.”

“She spoke with me, yes.” Coran shook his head. “I told her we couldn’t support her diet as we could yours. Your status as half-human means you’re not in any danger if you don’t get any of your third tier, and when you do feed, you don’t endanger your partners, even the frequent ones. Blood, as well, is in smaller quantities than she would require.”

“Ah. Yeah, there are ways around that, but… it’s hard. Definitely not pleasant unless you wean yourself off from it slowly,” Lance sighed. “Kinda wish we had the castle fully occupied, though. If the place was housing the hundreds of people it has room for, that wouldn’t be as much of a problem.”

“One thousand, two hundred, and seventy six,” Coran said quietly.

“…That’s how many people could live here at one time?”

“With every room at its proper occupancy, yes.”

“Oh.”

Coran didn’t answer for a long moment, then turned and headed for the door. “I believe it’s about time for me to get some rest. Good night, Lance.”

“Night,” Lance said, and turned back to the spell matrix.

…Maybe he’d go practice on the guitar Marisol had brought him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO WE END ACT TWO. HOLY FUCK.  
> I'm hoping to finish the fic before Season Three comes out. I've got like three or four side fics planned, but who knows if they'll happen?  
> Anyway, Arc Three is going to pick up a few plot threads I laid down like... a dozen chapters ago. Maybe a dozen and a half? I don't know. I do know that my plot resolution is going to go in a direction people may not expect, because isn't that just how this story goes? There's a very obvious solution... so we go with something that's oddly even MORE expedient, but didn't occur to anyone because genre conventions.
> 
> BY THE WAY, here's what my outline for the second arc looked like:
> 
>   * Lance teaching Allura and Pidge about Earth Magic
>   * Plans for Lotor-napping
>   * Violin
>   * Lotor-napping interrupted by Haggar
>   * Keith/Lance/Allura
>   * Marisol visits in person
>   * Balmera visit
>   * Conflict with Haggar 
>     * Lucifer
>     * “Ill-met by moonlight, fair Lotor.”
>   * Visit from families
> 

> 
> Yeah, it was pretty bare bones; I mostly just needed an ORDER (which I ended up changing later when I moved a major plot point to the third act).
> 
> Slava is really important to me and I missed it this year because I was in a musical. (If you're a Firefly fan, look up "Browncoats: The Musical" by the group Tea Time for Mad Girls. Yeah, that.)  
> Kiesza - Hideaway: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESXgJ9-H-2U  
> Foster the People - Don't Stop (Fat Rat Remix): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHiovIidNas  
> Alexandra Stan - Mr. Saxobeat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sS76eS34Y0c  
> Yes, Lance was going for a Lion King joke.
> 
> Yeah, the Serbian way of referring to one's mother is "Mama." Pronounced differently, etc. If you're expecting to get confused about whether Colleen or Elvira is the one being referenced, look for the accent mark.  
> Flying tackle hugs are par for the course for a species that is capable of flight and is extraordinarily cuddly.  
> The Princess Bride references, as you might have noticed.  
> I don't know how to write children. How small are their vocabularies?  
> Keith: "Something stupid? I'm in."
> 
> Amicable exes is a trope I'm very happy to play with.
> 
> I have no idea if this is legal or not. I don't think Marisol and Gaius care.
> 
> I have... so much trouble writing Hunk. And his family (though at least I've figured out personalities for them, however little those personalities shine through). And anything about Shay. (That's probably really obvious.)  
> In regards to writing the section about the tattoos, I kept this post in mind, since it was partly why I wanted to bring the tattoos up in the first place: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/156500958240/ulalole-kruciatus-algayens-hunkgarrett
> 
> I always get really self-conscious about writing Serbian, since I never have a reason to do it (I speak it at home all the time, but I don't really _write_ ). That said... here's some translations. And no, I didn't want to do mouse-over pop-up translations.  
> važi, važi - alright, alright  
> Pička ti materina! - Motherfucker! (Lit. (do something to) your mother's cunt)  
> Ko ti je dao pravo da tako pričaš? - Who gave you permission to talk like that?  
> Videla si šta je uradio! - You saw what he did!  
> To ne znači da smeš da psuješ! - That doesn't mean you're allowed to swear!  
> Milo moje - a term of endearment  
> gledaj me u oči - Look me in the eyes  
> Eto, plači kol’ko god moraš. Mama te drži. - There, cry as much as you need to. Mom is holding you.
> 
> Keith, they're CHILDREN. You do NOT need to be this suspicious.  
> I have a feeling people wouldn't want Marisol joining permanently (because OC), and, well, there's a good reason to keep her from joining the ship anyway. Coran's got a point.
> 
> Reminder that if you want to look up what the flowers I used in the chapter titles mean, you can go here: http://www.languageofflowers.com/flowermeaning.htm


	33. Goblin, Lead Them Up and Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planet has many names. Farhin. Aosi. Dennan. They all lead to two meanings:
> 
> Magic... and danger.
> 
> (And thus begins our third and final arc.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will apologize for the content. This plot point has been planned for over twenty chapters, granted, but still.

 

“Coran and I were analyzing the information gathered during the last conflict with Haggar and Lotor while your families were here,” Allura said, bringing up the files on the screen. They were written in Galra, but as soon as Allura picked out one file in particular to bring to the front, English and Altean translations popped up alongside it.

“Farhin?” Shiro asked, looking at the name of the planet.

“It was what the planet was known as to Alteans, but it has many names,” Allura said. “I believe the Galra call it… Aosi?”

“A bastardization of one of the names that local species has for themselves,” Kolivan confirmed. “Given their isolationist tendencies and refusal to develop space travel, we’ve had few chances to confirm the actual pronunciation.”

“Why’s Haggar interested in it?” Lance asked. “And if she’s interested, then why hasn’t she gone for it before?”

“Their technology isn’t very advanced, and combined with their isolationist policies, they pose little threat to the Galra’s expansion as an empire,” Allura said. “That said, their magical abilities are greater than even Haggar’s, so attempting to attack them outright would cost the Galra far more than they would gain. The cost-benefit analysis just held in favor of ignoring the planet, since they weren’t a threat, but were too costly to colonize.”

“Makes sense,” Shiro said. “Altea had contact with the people of the planet previously?”

“Infrequently, but yes. I believe there may have actually been some marriages between the two, but they were always very…” Allura bit her lip, thinking, “The local species were very much concerned with debts and balances; other than Altea, where they occasionally came to discuss magical research, their few interactions were with the Unilu and the Karthulians.”

“Like… the Mu guy that Coran’s friends with?” Hunk asked. “The one that was basically part of the space mafia? From The Fripping Bulogian?”

Shiro took a deep breath and sighed, but didn’t say anything.

Allura nodded. “Yes, just so. The people of Farhin were difficult to deal with, especially on an informal basis, and merchants like the Unilu and those like the Karthulians were more accustomed to that kind of thinking.”

“Makes me think of the angels in Marvel,” Shiro mused. “Nothing for nothing, and all that.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Allura said, “But it looks like even those infrequent meetings ceased to happen after Zarkon began his war. _Someone_ would manage to get the people of Farhin to accept contact and trade every few dozen decafeebs, before, or even _just_ a handful decafeebs, if we were lucky. Since the war, though, it seems that contact has been made only a handful of times, all by Unilu.”

“We suspect that there has been more contact that we simply haven’t heard of,” Kolivan said. “But the quadrant is watched heavily enough by the empire that it can’t have been more than once every few centuries.”

“That’s… definitely some isolationist policy,” Lance said, whistling lowly. “And why’s Haggar interested now?”

“The superweapon,” Kolivan said flatly. “Farhin has long been home to some of the highest concentrations of quintessence outside of a Balmera, but Zarkon had no way of harvesting it. Regardless of how highly quintessence is prized, there were no crystals growing, as with a Balmera, and the populace could never have been convinced to cooperate and work with the Druids or otherwise join Zarkon’s army. With Haggar’s superweapon, however, the entire planet can be drained of its quintessence from a distance, all without ever touching the planet.”

“Meaning she wouldn’t have to fight the inhabitants,” Keith realized. “Which was the main reason they’d never tried to take advantage of those skills and resources before.”

“Exactly,” Kolivan said. “And with the quintessence drained, the inhabitants would all be dead, and all the magical defenses would be inoperable. Given their low level of technological advancement, Haggar would suddenly have complete access to all written records of their magical research, which is among, if not _the_ most advanced in the universe.”

“Shit,” Pidge summarized. “What are our chances that Haggar’s going to hold off on attacking?”

“She has a few easier planets on her list,” Allura admitted. “And I’d like to defend those as well, but I have a feeling that she’ll leave Farhin for a little further down the line. If we warn them of her plans, they may feel grateful enough to help fight back.”

“There’s also a chance that she will attempt to bargain with them first,” Coran said, drawing the room’s attention. “I… I have reason to believe that Haggar is someone I knew as a young man, though going by a different name and face. If she still thinks the same way, then she will first attempt to threaten them into cooperating and joining the army. I’ve no idea how she thinks to control them once she’s gotten them, since being aboard Galra ships would give them the opportunity to destroy the superweapon, but she’s clever enough to think of something.”

“Probably technological, if these people rely mostly on magic,” Pidge said. “So… what do we do?”

“We visit the planet, as diplomats, and attempt to warn them of what’s to come,” Allura said. “Given their activities, it may be difficult to gain an audience with the queens, but we have few other options until Haggar acts herself.”

“And then go defend the lower-priority planets?” Hunk asked.

“Of course,” Allura confirmed.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance felt his skin crawling as soon as they came into orbit over Farhin. He stayed close to the window, staring down at it and trying to figure out why the hell the feeling it gave off bothered him so much. The planet looked fairly Earth-like from orbit, with a much longer year, larger land-to-water ratio, slightly less tilted axis, and lower gravity.

“The lighting isn’t going to be that different from home, but the days and nights are way longer, like eight hours longer each. The atmosphere is pretty oxygen-rich, but looks to still be in the comfort zone for us,” Pidge said, looking through the data she’d pulled from the Castle’s computers. “Um… honestly, this is probably the most Earth-like world we’ve seen. Kind of on the colder side, pretty frequent precipitation, high humidity, comparatively low environmental variation with most of it being forests and temperate grasslands…”

“So… England,” Shiro said.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Pidge said. “Anyone have any commentary?”

“I don’t like the feel of this place,” Lance said. He turned away from the window and looked at the others. “I’m getting serious heeby-jeebies here.”

Coran looked up from where he was talking to Allura and Kolivan, frowning. “Serious what?”

“You couldn’t have phrased that better?” Hunk asked.

“Sorry,” Lance said. “It’s just… the magic here. It’s freaking me out.”

“Freaking you out how?” Allura asked.

“It’s… I don’t know,” Lance rubbed at his upper arms, hunching up his shoulders. “It feels… old. Not malicious, but… impersonal, maybe? Condescending? Like… like we’re being watched, and judged.”

“Well, we are in orbit…” Allura said. “I’d be more surprised if they weren’t watching us somehow.”

“Not just radar or whatever, though, like… some ‘the hills have eyes’ type shit.” Lance rubbed at his temples. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“We’ll… take it under consideration,” Allura said. “You do know more about magic than the rest of us, but we can’t afford to not go through with this.”

“Do we even know how to get into contact with them?” Lance asked. “Or are we just floating around until they get into contact with us?”

“A few hours of waiting, then we’ll attempt to establish contact,” Allura said. “Older practices held to allowing them to reach out first. Apparently, it was safer that way.”

“Safer?” Lance asked. The tension swirled tight in his core, to the point of near-nausea.

“More polite, at least,” Allura said. She bit her lip, looking unsure. “My father dealt with them a few times, but I was never really given more than a few passing comments on how to speak with them. We were far more likely to treat with other species, so Farhin was a low priority in my diplomatic education.”

“I was more useful in other areas,” Coran admitted. “Diplomacy was… not my strong suit as an advisor.”

“Oooooh, we’re doomed,” Lance muttered. The magic felt like motor oil on the back of his neck, cold and slick and clinging.

He rubbed at his arms again.

o.o.o.o.o

An hour and a half in, part of the massive forest below began to glow, the magic reaching threadlike and weaving towards the castle. It didn’t tug at them, but it pulled on the attention in a way that was weak enough to resist, but strong enough to notice.

Lance fought down a worried noise and focused on the forest below, keeping his breath as even as he could. His heart beat rapidly beneath his armor as Allura turned the castle down towards the lights emanating from the night-bound part of the planet, and he didn’t care to stop it. He was on edge, yes, but that was where he needed to be right now.

“You okay?” Hunk asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Lance shook his head. “Something’s _wrong_ , Hunk.”

“An ambush?” Hunk suggested. “Like, you think they already talked to Haggar and joined her?”

“No, I just… I’m _missing_ something,” Lance moaned, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not a trap, probably, but there’s something dangerous about this place. I’m… I’m scared, Hunk.”

“Well, we already knew they were dangerous in planetside combat?” Hunk offered. “And you said the magic creeps you out?”

Lance shot him a look. Hunk held his hands up in surrender.

“Listen, I trust your instincts on this, I just don’t know if there’s any way to address them until we’re on the ground,” Hunk said. “But I’ll stay on the lookout, okay?”

Lance cupped his elbows and nodded, eyes back on the ground.

Hunk squeezed his shoulder again. “We can do this.”

“Lance?”

They both turned at the sound of Shiro’s voice, already standing by the exit with the rest of the team, plus Allura and Kolivan. Only Coran would be staying aboard, it seemed, as per usual.

“Yeah?” Lance asked, with a hoarseness to his voice that he hated.

“We’re ready to go, and…” Shiro sighed. “If you figure out what it is that’s bothering you, just say the word. We weren’t joking about you knowing more about this kind of thing than the rest of us. If you say something’s up, we’ll listen. Even if it’s just a hunch, or something you think the rest of us hadn’t noticed, speak up.”

One of the many knots of tension in Lance’s body unraveled. They’d listen. If he figured out what was wrong, he’d be able to do something.

Allura met his eyes and nodded minutely, and the knot of tension returned again, though at least it was smaller than before.

They were putting their trust in him.

He was jittery by the time they made it to the ground, only staying still by virtue of the incredibly tight way he held his fists. There was no one to greet them, but more floating lights of varying sizes and lead away into the night. Lance looked around the vast meadow they’d landed in, so large that some might have even called it a plain. It had similar lights floating around, softly glowing, blinking in and out at times, but none led away as these did.

“They didn’t send anyone to greet us,” Allura said lowly.

“We don’t really need a welcome committee,” Keith commented.

“At least we’ve got some kind of guide?” Pidge approached the lights, reaching out. “Maybe they’re ma—”

“Don’t,” Lance said, his voice dry and almost raspy. “Don’t touch them.”

She pulled back her hand, looking at him in concern. “Not just lights?”

Lance shook his head. “Magic. Don’t know what kind. Feels… I don’t know. Just don’t touch magic you’re unfamiliar with.”

She nodded slowly, and waited for the rest of the group to join her. Lance fought the urge to pull out his bayard. They needed to present a peaceful front, and he couldn’t ruin that just because he felt jumpy.

The trek through the forest was quiet. Even Pidge didn’t say much, despite her tendency to think aloud about whatever alien plant or technology they’d found. Lance figured that his unease had spread to the rest of them, now that they were seeing the same kind of creepy shit he’d felt in the magic from before.

He took up the rear position, his shoulders and neck already sore from how tightly he was holding them. His eyes scanned the forest as they passed through it, and he thought he could hear some kind of murmur in the distance, muffled but clearly loud at the point of origin. The trees looked more earthlike than any he’d seen so far, and the grass did too, but there was a feeling to the forest that few on Earth had, like there were eyes in every shadow and behind every leaf.

(Well, a lot of forests had that feeling, especially those with large supernatural populations. Few had magic this dense in the air, though, magic that intensified the feeling to a point where it _weighed_.)

“This is so creepy,” Pidge muttered.

“Yeah,” Hunk said softly.

“Should we really be following these things?” Shiro asked, gesturing at the floating lights.

“We’ve no other choice,” Allura stated. “Not if we wish to treat with Farhin’s queens.”

“Does anyone else feel like they’re being watched?” Keith asked.

“Yes,” Kolivan said shortly.

Lance had a feeling that even they were starting to feel the magic in the air, despite the fact that no one but Allura had any sensitivity for it.

A high-pitched giggle of laughter came from the right, clear and childish. Lance had his bayard up and trained on the noise before he even consciously processed it. A second later, a deeper, masculine laugh echoed from the other side, and Lance swung towards it instead. There was a distant noise, like rustling leaves, and then no more laughter.

“…are they _trying_ to freak us out?” Pidge demanded. “Seriously, what the hell?”

“Just… keep going,” Shiro said. “We’ll get our answers soon enough.”

Lance glanced back and felt his heart sink. The lights leading back to the castle were gone.

“Stop,” he said, and took solace in the fact that they actually listened.

He could still see the castle through the gaps in the trees, at least; something that large was hard to hide, even from this distance. He turned his helmet’s map on, and tried to check to see if he could still see where they were on there.

“My map is glitching out every few seconds,” Pidge said, sounding nervous. “Anyone else?”

“Same,” Hunk confirmed, and the others said the same after taking a moment to see.

Lance closed his eyes and focused. He tugged on his connection to Blue, and sighed as she answered it, strong as ever. He opened his eyes and turned back around to the group. “We can follow the lions, but we should stick together anyways.”

“Red might come if Ke—” Allura started, but Pidge cut her off.

“Oh, hey, mushrooms!”

Lance breathed in sharply, and

                                     E

                       V

           E

                 R

          Y

       T

               H

                        I

                    N

         G

_Clicked._

“STOP TALKING!” Lance shouted, well aware of the sheer terror that had suddenly entered his voice.

Everyone froze, and then turned in unison towards him.

“L—” Shiro started, but Lance cut him off.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said sharply, and Shiro’s mouth clacked shut. Thankfully, it seemed that everyone was going to hold to the earlier promise of listening to him on this.

“Where did you see mushrooms?” Lance asked, moving towards Pidge, who pointed just off the pathway to a spot that the lights just barely reached.

He felt his throat close up, because they _were_ mushrooms, and they weren’t just a clump or cluster.

They were in a ring.

“Oh, hell,” he whispered. “Oh, hellity, hellity, hell.”

“La—”

“ _DON’T!”_ Lance said, whirling around to face Shiro with what he _knew_ was panic on his face. “Don’t say my name! Don’t say _anyone’s_ name!”

“Oh my god,” Hunk whispered. “You don’t think…”

Lance nodded sharply, closing his eyes and running over what little they’d said since leaving the castle. He didn’t _think_ they’d said anyone’s names since leaving. That was good.

“What’s going on?” Allura asked.

Lance held up a hand to stall her, focusing on the magic as much as he could. It was cloying now, pressing up against him like it wanted him to _know_ that it recognized his fear, like it was just as aware as a person and very much enjoying the fear (the respect) he was giving it. But he recognized it. Oh god, did he recognize it.

“I’ve been here before,” he whispered. “ _Díos_ , I’ve been here before.”

“What?” Kolivan demanded. “How?”

“It’s… it’s a portal,” Lance said, his mouth and throat dry. “The mushrooms… they’re a fairy ring.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Pidge said, staring at it in horror.

“I’ve been here before because someone brought me here. I didn’t realize it was a different planet at the time, and it’s been a while, but… magic. Oh god, the _magic_. It’s the same. This entire planet isn’t some alien race we know nothing about, it’s the _fae._ ”

He started pacing back and forth, gripping his helmet in his hands in lieu of being able to bury them in his hair. “The lights aren’t just lights, they’re _will-o-the-wisps._ They’re usually in swamps and bogs and marshes, but we’re following an entire _path_ of hinkypunks!”

“S-surely you must be mistaken,” Allura said. “How could a species from _your_ planet possibly—”

“Powerfully magical but isolationist?” Lance asked. “All about debts? Refusal to deal with most technology? For fuck’s sake, _Farhin?_ _Aosi?_ That’s a bastardization of fairy and Aos Sí, respectively.”

“Are you sure?” Keith asked.

“ _Positive_ ,” Lance moaned. “I recognized the magic; that’s why I kept thinking it was dangerous but couldn’t pinpoint why. That’s why it’s so intentionally creepy; they’re _trying_ to freak us out, because that’s how they… get their jollies or whatever.”

“This is why the fairy that answered your summon wasn’t surprised about aliens,” Shiro realized. He was starting to look as sick to his stomach as Lance felt.

“It’s why Haggar couldn’t ever convince them to join the war,” Hunk said, sounding as though he was talking to himself. “The fae don’t do anything unless they want to. Until now, she’s had nothing to tempt or force them, because there’s nothing they _want_ , and I doubt she knows their—is anyone wearing their protective jewelry?”

Lance, Pidge, and Keith raised their hands.

“Paranoia wins again,” Lance muttered. “Okay. We can work with this. I just… need to go over the rules. And maybe you could let me do the talking?”

Allura hesitated, and then nodded. “You know how these people work better than I do.”

“Right,” Lance said, shifting on his toes. Oddly enough, he was relaxing a little now; he finally knew what he was dealing with. He knew _how_ to deal with it. He could work with that. “...the entire planet is fae. The _entire planet is fae, guys._ ”

“We kn—” Shiro started to say, but was cut off again.

Loud, slow claps echoed from the forest ahead of them, where the lights were clustered close enough together to hide whatever was behind them. They parted as a figure stepped forward, still clapping.

“Oh no,” Lance said.

The figure threw back his head and laughed, no longer clapping.

“You know, bets were made regarding how many passes of the minute’s hand the clock would make before you realized. Not many expected this result.”

“Oh?” Lance asked, his voice loud in his ears without his heartbeat there to drown it out.

“Some thought at once you’d see the world for what it is, while others thought the court would see you pass its borders before you realized. How curious, that the tree’s gravesite would have you notice your place.”

“And what would you have us call this planet?” Lance asked, mind scrambling and once again more tense than he’d been this entire time.

Puck smiled, and spread his arms, bowing his head forward for just a moment before lifting it again.

“Welcome, travelers, to Planet Sídhe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen...
> 
> We all knew this was coming.
> 
> The new chapter naming scheme is Shakespeare quotes. This one's from A Midsummer Night's Dream, as seemed appropriate.
> 
> Ten thousand years and alien tongues have mangled the names the fair folk have given themselves, but they find it funny.
> 
> The "Tuatha Dé Danann" is the source name/phrase for the mangled "Dennan" from the summary. This is the name the Unilu use. They were a race of supernaturally gifted beings in Irish folklore that are believed to be the precursors to more modern fair folk mythos, having been worshiped as gods prior to the advent of Christianity.  
> The "aos sí" (even older: "aes sídhe") are similarly supernatural beings from Irish and Scottish folklore, though not worshiped as deities, and are "comparable" to fairies and elves.  
> Sídhe is the word for the mounds in which the aos sí are often believed to live in/under, also known as fairy mounds (other options include across the western sea and in an invisible world alongside ours). This is _not_ the name the fae use for the planet themselves, but rather just the one that they are giving to Team Voltron. Names carry power with the fae, after all; wouldn't want the planet's true name falling into the wrong hands, right?  
>  I'm not an expert on fae, but I've done my share of research. Some of the changes that you see will be the usual artistic license one sees with more modern fair folk stories, though.
> 
> I know that England does not represent all of the British Isles. That said, it was the first comparison that popped into Shiro's head; he had no idea that he'd be running into creatures more commonly found in Ireland and Scotland.
> 
> Coran's friend, Kythylian Mu, is from the comics.
> 
> I feel like I was writing the world's shittiest horror story here. Hopefully, it didn't come off as too over-the-top.
> 
> Say 'welcome back' to Puck. I don't enjoy writing his dialogue, but he's an important figure, and very much the kind of fae to get involved in this shit. Also, exposition _central_ next chapter.  
>  (Arc Two was... a lot of set-up for Arc Three, honestly.)


	34. By the Pricking of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting with royalty... other than Allura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does involve some touchy subjects, namely Shiro once again being a little concerned about Lance's personal autonomy in regards to his sexual activities. I expand on the reasons behind it all in the end notes. Also, there's some really mild sexual content (it's basically just a vague "it happened").

“We need a moment to confer,” Lance said. Not _please give us a moment_ or _could you give us a moment?_ Nothing that could be considered a request, not ever, not to _Puck_. “I’m sure you understand.”

Puck tilted his head and smiled. “Do I?”

“We were prepared to meet royalty,” Lance said. “But, not knowing even our lovely hosts’ species, we were unprepared for specifics. Knowing as we do now that we shall speak with this generation’s Titania, and perhaps even Mab, we’ve more to work with. However, only I am trained to speak and treat with the fair folk, and it would not do for one of my companions to offend, would it?”

“Just companions?” Puck asked, eyes tracing over the team. The hinkypunk lights swirled around him, flickering.

“ _Mine_ ,” Lance said, with just barely enough effort to hide the venom in his voice. He was still in the realm of politeness, but only barely.

“You may wish to take care that people know that…” Puck said, turning and striding off. “I’ll wait ahead.”

Lance let the sound of footsteps fade before whirling on his team.

“Wh—” Kolivan started, but Lance spoke over him.

“Let me do the talking,” Lance said, eyes on Allura. “ _Please_ let me do the talking. Appoint me official diplomat or whatever you need to do, just _do not risk this_.”

“Of course,” she said. “I already said you could.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Lance let out a breath between his teeth, whooshing. “Puck’s here.”

“We noticed,” Shiro said. “So… what do we need to know? Or do? Right now, you’re playing the role of expert consultant.”

“Um…” Lance bit his lip and bounced on his toes. He could do this. He could totally do this. “Don’t use any names. Nothing that could be considered a proper name, either when introducing yourself or when referring to someone else. And this isn’t just your legal name, either. Dead names, nicknames that feel ‘true’, and any nicknames derived from your real name are off-limits, though the last one is mostly just because they could use it to figure out your real name.”

“Codenames, then,” Pidge said. “We could… do our lion colors?”

“And then just ‘Princess’ would work fine here,” Lance nodded to Allura, “And… are you okay with just ‘Blade’ or something?”

Kolivan held his gaze, then sighed and nodded. “That is adequate.”

“Okay,” Lance said. He licked his lips, eyes on the ground. “Second biggest rule: do not accept _anything_ unless they call it a gift first, or say ‘freely given.’ Not food, not jewelry, nothing that could be considered worth a debt, because their interest rates are immense and _immediate_. Eat a berry? Trapped here working for them forever, or at least until they get bored enough to let you go. And never say thank you, not even for a helping hand up after tripping or a compliment. ‘That’s very kind of you’ works, or saying something nice in return, even ‘I appreciate it’, but _do not thank them_ , or in any way accept the debt.”

“We get it,” Keith said.

Lance shot him a dark look. “Do you wanna get stolen?”

“Not really.”

“Then _listen_ ,” Lance insisted.

“Can we just… avoid talking?” Hunk asked. “And let you do all of it?”

“If possible, but there’s a good chance they’ll try to talk to us individually,” Lance said. “ _Hopefully_ , we can talk them into understanding how big of a threat Haggar’s planet-killer is, and they’ll avoid trying to trap us, or at least let us pay back any presumed favors with something that actually fits the debt.”

“Right, so basically just stand back and look pretty,” Pidge said.

“I mean… I’ll probably need people corroborating my information, so there’ll be more talking than that,” Lance admitted. “And I’ll definitely want to see about winning the Queens’ favors…”

“How?” Shiro asked.

“Entertainment, mostly,” Lance said. “The fae, especially the higher ranking ones, like to be entertained by other species.”

“Lesser, in their minds,” Hunk said, just a touch bitterly.

Lance winced. “Well… you’re not wrong.”

Everyone looked at him, and he shrugged. “They’re prideful. _Everyone_ is lesser in their minds.”

“Blue and Princess are probably the ones they’re going to focus on,” Hunk said. “ _Maybe_ Blade, but Alteans are basically space elves, and demons garner at least a little more respect than humans.”

Lance sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, it’s likely. But… everyone keep an eye on the short shit.”

“Wait, what?” Pidge asked, looking just a little offended.

“You’re small. You’re cute. You’re wearing a lot of green. You’re _young_ , and you’re very, very clever and good with your hands,” Lance explained. “I feel like I’ve gone over this before, but seriously: you may be too old to be switched out for a changeling, but there’s a good chance that they’ll still try to steal you for their own somehow.”

Pidge gaped at him, then huffed and crossed her arms. “Fine.”

“Right,” Lance said, bouncing on his toes a little again as he thought. “Actually… Princess? I need you to do something for me.”

Allura raised an eyebrow.

“Can you contact the mice from here?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want to leave you all here alone, but I need some stuff brought down from the castle.” Lance bit his lip. “The iron-and-silver jewelry, and my violin.”

“They can’t make that trip alone,” Allura reminded him.

“That’s why we have a firecat, right?” Lance grinned at her, though it was shaky as all get out. “Think they can pull it off in that case?”

Allura closed her eyes, and everyone waited with bated breath. It took a good thirty seconds, at least, but she eventually opened her eyes again and nodded. “I’ll know when they’re done.”

“Any other rules?” Shiro asked. “I get the feeling we don’t want to keep Puck waiting much longer.”

“Don’t dance with them, be as polite as you can at all times, and try not to make any promises,” Lance said. “Puck is the most dangerous person there at any given time; if he leaves, we’re at least a little safer.”

“Wait, what about the Queens?” Keith asked. “Shouldn’t they be more dangerous than him? Or like… Oberon or whatever?”

“It’s… complicated. They’re powerful, yes, and in charge, but he’s… ancient.” Lance shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he were older than the war.”

Kolivan blinked slowly. “Oh?”

“I don’t know. I can’t know. But…” Lance shrugged. “He’s one of the most feared and respected figures in the supernatural community for a reason, y’know.”

“And your sister’s ex,” Shiro said.

Lance made a face. “That’s going to buy me a bit more safety than you’d expect, honestly. Um… quick rundown of politics, I guess? There are four courts, based on the seasons: winter and autumn are Unseelie; spring and summer are Seelie. Titania is the Seelie Queen, Mab is the Unseelie Queen. Unseelie are a little harder to speak with, but we’re probably going to the Seelie first. Puck is technically Titania and Oberon’s right-hand man, but he’s also a go-between to Mab. I’m… honestly, I’m going to try the Unseelie alone.”

“You need _some_ backup,” Shiro said, frowning.

“…maybe,” Lance allowed. “Let’s get the Seelie over with first.”

“We’re good, then?” Hunk asked. “Nothing else we need to cover?”

“Buddy system,” Lance said. “Except for me, obviously, but yeah, you guys should always stay with at least one or two other people from the team.”

“And no heading back to the Castle unless the entire team is present,” Allura said.

“I might need to stay longer,” Lance said. “Hell, I might just _want_ to stay longer.”

“No,” Hunk said. “L—shit, _Lazuli_ , no.”

Lance blinked at him. “You didn’t even—”

“I don’t care about whatever bragging rights you’d get from it; don’t seduce the queens,” Hunk said.

“…it would help us earn their favor, though?” Lance tried.

“ _No_ ,” Shiro said. “You are _seventeen_. I’m not using your… sexual activities as a tool to win the war.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “My ‘sexual activities’ are my own to decide, dude. You’re not ordering me to do this, and I have my own reasons to try even without the part about winning their favor for Voltron’s sake.”

“Bragging rights aren’t—” Shiro started.

“Can you _please_ just trust me on this?” Lance asked. “Please? Considering everything else, is this really the part you should be questioning?”

Shiro pursed his lips, and then sighed. “Fine, but promise me you aren’t doing this just for the war.”

“I’m not doing it just for the war,” Lance said. It was even the truth.

“Alright,” Shiro sighed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Lance bit his lower lip. “I do have… one more thing I’d like to do, but you might not like.”

“What?” Shiro asked.

“…marking,” Lance admitted. “Like… vampire bite on your neck, healed to a scar instead of to normal. It’s not _necessary_ , but it would be helpful… and it would make me feel better.”

“What would it mean?” Allura asked, her voice low.

“…it’s not a sign of ownership,” Lance finally said. “But it’s… a connection. Protective, a little possessive, very much a notice that if they fuck with you, they fuck with me and anyone I can call on. And that doesn’t sound like it means much, not when you’re already part of Voltron, but it _does_ , especially to people who… who know my family.”

“Your family scares people?” Pidge asked. “Like… are you guys infamous or something?”

“No, god no, nothing like that.” Lance shook his head rapidly. “But… Puck knows my sister. And he knows what kind of friends my sister has. And while nobody knows what kind of ending _that_ would lead to, especially since it’s not like everyone my sister knows is really willing to show up on a moment’s notice to throw down with freaking _Puck_ , it’s… the sort of thing that would make them pause, because the potential trouble is more than it’s worth.”

“And this protection doesn’t exist unless you mark us?” Allura asked.

“…like I said,” Lance sighed. “It’s nowhere near _necessary_ , but it would make me feel better, and it’s a bit like… if there’s ever a legal dispute with other magicals, I can point and say that this was there as a sign of what would happen.”

“Can the scars be removed?” Pidge asked quietly. “Or is this permanent?”

“…permanent,” Lance answered, his voice so low they could barely hear him. “At least, the scars are. The magic behind the symbol can be removed, at least.”

Silence floated about them for a moment, broken only by distant strains of ephemeral music and tinkling laughter. Then Keith took off his helmet and stepped forward, tilting his head. “If you say it’s going to be helpful, even if it’s not necessary, then I don’t mind.”

“With the armor in the way, it’ll be high up enough that you won’t be able to hide it easily in the future,” Lance warned. “And they’ll be able to sense it even if it’s hidden by fabric.”

“Then why hide it?”

“Do you _want_ to be able to walk around Earth without having to dodge questions about your teammate being half-demon?” Lance asked. “Because in case you’ve forgotten, most humans _don’t know I exist_.”

Keith considered that, then shrugged and handed his helmet to Shiro so he could pull his chest piece off. “Okay.”

“Guess we’re doing this, then,” Pidge muttered.

“You don’t have to,” Lance said, frowning. “Just because Red is—”

“I made my choice,” Pidge said, starting to pull off her own armor. “I’m sticking with it.”

“Same,” Hunk sighed. “As long as we’ve been friends, this isn’t actually weird.”

Shiro and Allura looked at each other, and then nodded and joined in.

“I’ll refrain,” Kolivan said.

“That’s understandable,” Lance said, moving over to Keith and eyeing the pale skin that was revealed as Keith unzipped his suit and pulled down the fabric enough to give Lance access. “You’re an independent leader anyway; it would be a bit messy politically if other species have a different meaning for the same thing, wouldn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Kolivan said.

Lance did it all as quickly as he could, moving from teammate to teammate and feeling a minute piece of his own magic, his own _quintessence_ , push into the wound and mark them.

( _Mine_ , the vampire in him growled pleasantly. They didn’t belong to him, no, and there was no chance in heaven or hell that he _owned_ them, but they were _his_ all the same, just as he was theirs.)

(Magic, Lance knew, was never going to look as simple as outsiders thought. And hey, at least he wasn’t a werewolf; then that would _really_ look different.)

After he finished up, he looked around the group and licked his lips to get rid of the remaining blood. “All good?”

They nodded, all either back in full armor or on their way to it.

He turned to Allura. “Mice?”

“They’re just now reaching… should I use a false name for her as well?”

“Firecat should work,” Lance answered, grinning wryly. He already felt so _tired_. “So, does that mean I should call her down?”

“Can you do it from this distance?”

Lance grinned. “I made her, didn’t I? So… yeah. As easily as I could my lion.”

“Then I do believe they’re ready,” Allura said.

Lance closed his eyes, focused, and called Lucy.

“Literal devil cat,” Pidge whispered, sounding utterly delighted.

“Stop.” Lance shook his head and set to moving through the group until he was near the small wall that the hinkypunks had made. He linked his hands behind his back and called out, “Robin Goodfellow! I do believe we’ve made our plans.”

“Only believe?” Puck asked, coming back into sight as the hinkypunks moved out of the way. “Now that _does_ sound unsure…”

“…I’m going to level with you here,” Lance said. “I have no idea which form of English you’re hoping to hear from me.”

“Oh, this gentle Puck does think you will manage to find an answer.” Puck grinned, baring teeth like needles in a thin-lipped smile. They were off-white, a mostly human color that didn’t stand out inhumanly against his tanned skin (his form looked… perhaps South-East Asian), but the shape of them did that job well enough. It was hardly a drop in the bucket of strangeness, given that his eyes were a glossy black, without iris or sclera, and his hair a dark, oily green that was cropped in what was only ever a pixie cut.

(An aptly named haircut if there ever was one, Lance thought.)

“Gentle?” Lance asked, before he could stop himself.

Puck laughed, and Lance counted himself lucky for that. “Little incubus, I am not that which you need to fear in these dark nights, if I do hear correctly. There are whispers at the sky’s edge, dark and terrible; there have been for thousands of years, by many counts.”

“You claim your ears have taken pains to catch them all?” Lance asked.

“And more,” Puck said, a hand coming up to rest on one leather-clad hip. He was short and slim, though not quite to the degree that Pidge was, and clad in brown leathers and shining metals on top of thick fabrics that Lance couldn’t name from this distance. “Now… what is it that you have called from your castle?”

“An accidental familiar,” Lance said. “Young, but ours.”

“Accidental?” Puck asked, head tilted just so, catching the light on inhuman freckles that reflected the glow of the hinkypunks and glittered in a way few species could.

“I did not intend to create her,” Lance said. “And yet, she exists.”

“Wish you to await her?” Puck asked, head tilting just a bit further, until he was once again showing off just how inhuman he was with the flexibility of his neck.

“She’ll catch up,” Lance promised. “Shall we take to the path?”

Puck whirled on his heel and set off up the dirt road, the hinkypunks spinning out of his way and taking up their previous positions. “Allons-y!”

“…did he just—”

“Yes, Puck’s a Ten fan,” Lance muttered. “Try not to question his taste too much.”

“…I prefer Thirteen,” Pidge muttered.

o.o.o.o.o

Lucy caught up with them shortly before they reached the court, which probably didn’t seem like much of a court to those who were used to high walls and glass and hedges trimmed just so. The hinkypunks had long since thinned out, as the light and music from ahead reached them. There were even glimpses of more fae, if one watched from the corners of their eyes and listened for hushed footsteps and careless laughter.

“Here,” Lance said quietly, taking Allura’s hand and pulling her over to Lucy, who had grown to her original lion shape and equine size, once more a dark blue shot through with gold. He removed the iron-and-silver jewelry, passing it out to whoever it would fit, and paused at Coran’s. After a moment, he passed it to Kolivan. “The Advisor’s. On loan, let’s say.”

Kolivan eyed it, but slipped it on without complaint.

Lance looked to Allura and nodded at Lucy’s back. “A mount fit for royalty, wouldn’t you say?”

“…alright,” Allura said, and swung herself up onto Lucy, fingers attempting to grasp at fur but slipping through the harmless flames. “A difficult one, though.”

“All for the image, darling,” Lance laughed. “Give me a second, though.”

Pidge scoffed as she watched him do his thing. “Are you seriously stripping right now?”

“Demon. Gotta show it,” Lance said.

Puck laughed softly, drawing a stiffness back into everyone’s backs that the easy banter and Lucy’s appearance had helped them forget. “I suspect Titania and Oberon will appreciate such a sight.”

“She who has taken the throne but recently and her consort,” Lance sighed. “Unless, of course, one yet more recent has taken it?”

Puck shook his head. “Our Titania has held her seat for eight summers and a half, but her mother held hers for nearly five centuries.”

“The Lady of the time of the Bard,” Lance said, not bothering to keep the admiration from his tone as he shifted into demon form. “The longest-reigning of the Seelie queens. I hear she enjoyed his stories.”

“She showed her appreciation in her own way,” Puck laughed. “As did I.”

“A blessing of motivation,” Lance parroted the rumors he’d heard so long ago. “Or a curse, perhaps?”

“Both,” Puck replied, grinning. “You know how magic takes her form; a blessing or a curse? What may the difference be?”

“Minimal,” Lance acknowledged, gathering up what was left of his uniform and setting it on Lucy’s back, willing the flames to part and hold his armor within her body instead of sliding off and onto the ground. He smiled when it worked. “Shall we greet Her Majesty and the courts?”

Puck gestured towards the path, which twisted sharply just ahead, and grinned. "I'll even introduce you."

“If you wish to,” Lance said, stepping forward. “I imagine you enjoy the dramatic as much as I do.”

“As much as any of our kinds does, yes,” Puck said with a smile, turning down the path. “After me, then.”

They turned the corner, and, like a wall—

Sound.

Light.

It was almost too much.

Lance breathed in deep, the scent of wood smoke and broken grass hitting his nose and curling up inside. There were pastries and fruit, too, something he trusted his friends would avoid. His nose wasn’t as sensitive as Keith’s or Kolivan’s, though, even in demon form; it didn’t get nearly the boost that his eyes or ears did.

The fae in the clearing pretended to ignore them, continuing to dance and gossip. The music in the air was odd in the way theirs tended to be, with jolting rhythms that sounded odd to human ears at the best of times. The lighting came from the floating will-o-the-wisps and the over-bright moon that hung low in the sky, heavy and swollen.

(And didn’t that just make sense? The moon wasn’t too big and too bright because fae magic warped perceptions; it was too big and too bright because it was _a different moon_.)

Nonetheless, the crowds parted before them with every step, half-glances thrown their way before turning back to conversations about topics Lance didn’t care to learn.

“Visitors.” The voice was low, feminine, and melodic in a way that human voices rarely were. More importantly, it caused a hush to fall over the clearing as everyone turned to face the speaker.

Gilded chairs sat towards the back, flaking gold revealing a dark and heavy wood that Lance would have bet actual money was more expensive than the gold itself. No cushions, but the two figures that sat on them seemed to have no need for such.

Titania was not what the stories said, to an almost laughable extent. Her mother, Lance had heard, had been the kind of pale Irish beauty that people would have expected of Shakespeare’s time and setting, red ringlets and plentiful freckles included. This Titania, though, had warm skin that was almost as dark as the chair she sat upon, with pale green hair that rose in a cloudy afro around her head. Her dress, once she stood, fell about her like pink lily petals, and for anyone knew, a grotesquely overgrown flower had indeed been used as the source for the parts.

“Might I introduce the paladins of Voltron?” Puck said, bowing and gesturing to the group. “Along with the Princess of Altea and the leader of… another faction I’ve not had the pleasure of hearing spoken of.”

“He is of the Blade of Marmora, a sect of Galra dedicated to fighting the spread of Zarkon’s empire,” Lance said smoothly, stepping forward. “I am Lazuli. Well met, Queen of the Seelie.”

He bowed, with only a few flourishes and a slight flaring of his wings, and caught the others mimicking him from the corner of his eyes. Kolivan only inclined his head, while Allura stayed astride Lucy and nodded.

“And by what names shall I refer to the rest?”

“My title as Princess shall suffice,” Allura said. “My other paladins have taken their lion’s colors as their names, and our emissary of Marmora here has agreed to be referred to as simply Blade.”

Lance stood up straight again and stepped forward, tail lashing just a little before he got it to still. “For the purposes of this meeting, I shall be acting as primary speaker for the group.”

“Oh?” Titania asked, tilting her head. “And why might that be?”

“Of us, only I have had the pleasure of speaking with your kind before,” Lance said. “It wouldn’t do for one to accidentally offend the court, would it?”

“No… it wouldn’t,” she said, wide purple eyes blinking slowly at him.

(They reminded him of Nyma’s.)

“Why have you come?” Oberon asked, standing up and joining his wife. He was no paler than she, but his features had an influence that Lance would have pegged as South Asian, if anything. His hair was black, and peppered with blue and black feathers that stood out strikingly, matching the artfully tattered velvet and leather that he wore like the king’s robes they technically were.

“We bring grave tidings,” Lance said. “We did not know this planet was home to the fae, but I find it reassuring to know that you may yet find our cause, if not worthy of joining, then at least worthy of neutrality.”

“Paladins of Voltron,” Titania mused, stepping closer. “Then enemies of Zarkon, yes? We’ve had no threat from him or his pets in many a millennium. They’ve not set foot in our system for longer than mine life has extended, nor even my mother’s reign.”

“Things have changed,” Lance said. “Zarkon’s employ has long since kept the name of a witch called Haggar, Altean by birth but his by choice, and a small army of magic-users they call Druids.”

“…really,” Titania said, disdain dripping from every word. “Know they what that word truly means?”

“I have my doubts,” Lance admitted, clasping his hands together. “I was just as offended when I first heard; I’ve met true druids on Earth, after all.”

“Continue,” she ordered. “You’ve not yet told me of the changes wrought to put even Planet Sídhe in danger.”

“But of course,” he said. “Until now, Haggar has considered your planet unworthy of conquering, and passed that analysis on to Zarkon as she chose fit. Other planets have more resources, while your magics make you difficult to conquer.”

She smiled. “We know this.”

“You’ve also made no move to expand beyond your own planet,” Lance said. “So they chose to leave you be. Isolationist, average in resources other than quintessence, and a populace where even the average civilian could fight off unknown numbers of soldiers? It simply wasn’t worth it.”

“You flatter me,” Titania said. “And you’ve still not told us what the change is.”

“They have a way to harvest quintessence now, and from a distance,” Lance said flatly; the slits of his pupils were probably as thin as they could go right now, he just knew it. “They’ve drained entire planets of energy, killing off everything from the largest, most powerful life forms to the smallest bacteria. Haggar and her druids drain the planet of even the tiniest drop of quintessence while in orbit, in a way that would disable even your spells simply by eating up the power before it could work on the ship.”

Deadly silence covered the entire clearing, and then the crowd exhaled as one, heads tilting in unison.

“Well now,” Titania breathed out. “Isn’t that something?”

“You’ve proof?” Oberon asked.

“We’ve seen the wrecks of the planets she’s drained,” Lance said, feeling his tail lashing once, twice, _stop_. “And we found plans that indicated she was to attack Planet Sídhe in short order.”

“There were no others in those plans?” Puck asked.

“There were,” Lance allowed. “But with Sídhe’s, or at least, Farhin’s past friendship with Altea, and your known power, we thought it prudent to at least warn you.”

“I see,” Titania said, and her gaze seemed to turn to someone behind Lance. “Princess? Your thoughts?”

“…Haggar has made plans to either drain your planet, or use the threat of such to drag your people into service of the empire as she has countless others,” Allura said stiffly. “While both would be awful, and I would hate to see Farhin go the way of Altea, the latter would result in potentially trillions of deaths, were the war to progress far enough.”

Titania tilted her head, silvered freckles catching the light, and turned to Oberon. “Your thoughts?”

“They seem to believe the truth of their own words,” he drawled. “Whether they are _correct_ is another matter.”

“Our magic is powerful,” Puck said. “What little contact we have maintained with planets other than Earth have left us with the impression that we remain the most advanced in the known universe, magically.”

“And Altea was long the most advanced technologically,” Lance said. He didn’t finish the thought, watching dark looks cross the faces of the royalty in front of him.

He waited with bated breath as the Seelie royals turned to look at each other, fingertips just barely grazing one another’s as they had a silent conversation.

“We will… take your words under consideration,” Titania said eventually. “For now, join us.”

“Join you?” Lance asked.

“Further negotiations can wait,” Titania said, as though she’d take no other situation. She stepped forward until she was mere inches from Lance. She put a hand on his shoulder and held the other out to the side, waiting. “So enjoy yourself.”

“You’ll not take the others,” Lance said, though he removed his iron-and-silver necklace and threw it back towards his team. He brought up his feet and hands, and straightened his back like a string had pulled him straight. He held the position with ease born of practice, wings held back and away from the action. “If you wish to have Voltron on your side when Haggar turns her sights your way, then we have need for a full team.”

“Then they ought to take care of their words, no?” Titania asked, and a chord struck the air.

A few slow beats passed, and Lance thought he distantly recognized the song.

“A tango?” He asked. “I’d have expected a reel.”

“Not everything of the fae has need of being tied to the isles,” she said. “Europe’s culture was once ours, not the other way around.”

“Oh?” Lance asked, and stepped forward just as the beat hit. Titania moved with him, smooth as water.

“Of course,” she said. “How did you think so many Altean words made their way into the English language?”

Allura gasped sharply, audible even over the steadily quickening music.

“So many names,” Titania said, as Lance led her through a spin, “and so many little words. Why does a clock go ‘tick tock,’ little Lazuli?”

He dipped her, wings flaring. “I’d wondered.”

Titania smiled as he pulled her back upright, her teeth looking a far sight more normal than Puck’s. “We remembered our ties. Some of us even carry Altean blood in our veins, still.”

“Well, that’s certainly… some kind of answer,” Lance said. “I suppose that’s why some of the Altean names I’ve heard sound more human than expected.”

“We’ve added bits of ourselves to human culture across thousands of human years,” Titania said. “Our planets have been linked at the cores since the beginning, regardless of the distance. We are as you are… or at least, half are?”

“Half incubus,” Lance admitted, grabbing Titania’s leg as it wrapped around his hip, his widened stance taking on her weight as her other leg lifted straight up into the air for an extended measure. “And very good at it, I assure you.”

“That so?” She smiled at him, and then spun out as soon as she was back on the ground.

Lance found his arms filled with blue velvet and black leather instead.

“I’ll take the lead,” Oberon said, and glossy black eyes stared down at Lance for a long moment.

“Well,” Lance said, and did a few fancy flicks with his foot that were rarely used by the lead, instead reserved for those in the following positions, and absolutely something he’d learned watching women in fancy dresses on fancier stages. “I don’t suppose I have a problem with that.”

“Good,” Oberon said, and pulled them off into a dance even faster than the one with Titania. “Have you any other skills, beyond those you’ve mentioned thus far?”

“My silver tongue and fancy feet aren’t enough for you?” Lance teased, letting himself be sent down into a deep dip and pulled back up straight. “Or do you want more?”

“One does not speak well of their skills under sheets to the face of the fae queen unless they aim to use them,” Oberon said.

“I’ll not intrude on a happy marriage,” Lance said mildly. “But you are both young by fae standards, are you not? If invited by both, I see no problem. Do you?”

“No,” Oberon said quietly, and for a moment they were closer than before. “I do not.”

“Never met a concubus before?” Lance asked, his voice soft in a way that pulled Oberon to listen closer.

“Once,” Oberon said. “Her interests lay elsewhere.”

“…mine don’t,” Lance told him, licking his lips and grinning. “You’re both very pretty, after all, and I’m not one to turn down a chance with fae royalty. Besides, I’m meant to curry favor with those of power like yours, am I not?”

(He could hear Shiro groan even from where he was.)

“In regards to your earlier question,” Lance said. “I’ve some skill with a bow.”

“Arrow or instrument?” Oberon asked. “Or fabric?”

“Yes,” Lance said, and laughed at Oberon’s face. “I’m a good shot, play the violin, and sew.”

“Clever with your hands, then.”

“In many ways,” Lance said, winking.

(“I kind of want to shout ‘keep it in your pants,’” Pidge muttered.)

(“ _Don’t,”_ Hunk advised.)

“How many of your people remember the days of Altea?” Lance asked, trying not to get his own arm or Oberon’s cut on his horns as he went under them in a spin. “It’s been nearly eight thousand years by human count, hasn’t it? We were barely out of the stone age, were we not?”

“In Europe? If that. The Doggerland had barely disappeared beneath the English Channel,” Oberon said.

“You speak as though you lived these days yourself,” Lance said.

“Well…” Oberon shrugged, even as the song changed, and they stopped dancing. “You could ask Puck.”

“His words are true,” Puck said.

“And our elders… few survive to that age, even among our own,” Oberon admitted. “Those who do tend to choose to leave us. The previous royals all chose to join hermitages, and most beyond their second millennium do the same.”

“With one clear exception,” Lance said, turning to Puck.

Puck grinned, teeth once more on display. “I’ve held the power behind the throne for longer than your species has existed, little hybrid within hybrids. I have no interest in ruling, but following the whims of those who do? You know as well as I do how interesting that can be.”

“So your answer is that it sounded fun?” Lance asked.

“Is that not the reason most people choose to do as they will?” Puck asked. “Is it not the reason behind the chosen actions of so many a fae?”

“As far as I’ve heard,” Lance admitted, pulling away from Oberon and heading towards Lucy. Allura had dismounted by now, but Lucy looked up and let out a deep, rumbling purr as Lance ran a hand from her nose to her crown. “I need my violin and bow, little one.”

It took a moment for her to spit them out, utterly undamaged.

“No rosin,” Lance mused. “But I suppose I can work with that.”

“You can borrow mine,” one of the nearby fae said, holding the little block up and wiggling it.

He eyed them for a long moment.

“Freely given,” she giggled. “I’d like to hear an incubus play. It’s been many months since I have.”

“Well, if it’s freely given,” Lance said, reaching out and taking it. “Then it would be my pleasure to entertain you tonight.”

After a moment, he turned back to the team. “You’ll be expected to mingle, and then probably return to the Castle soon enough. Yellow, keep them out of trouble.”

“Aye-aye,” Hunk said, just a little mockingly.

“Green… keep an eye on the time.” Lance locked eyes with Pidge. “It passes differently here.”

“You sure it isn’t just the fact that the nights and days are longer than on Earth, so people genuinely had a reason to be surprised by how much time had passed when they got back home?” Pidge asked.

“Very sure,” Lance said. “Try not to get stolen. Keep your iron and silver on. Don’t piss anyone off.”

“Gotcha.”

Lance looked at everyone else one more time, his eyes catching on the marks he’d left on their necks, and then nodded and turned to the waiting court. “Shall any requests meet mine ears? I cannot promise to know them all.”

(It turned out, there were plenty of requests.)

(It turned out, the others _did_ leave long before Lance was done.)

(It turned out, Titania and Oberon were just as eager to share a bed with Lance as he’d expected.)

o.o.o.o.o

Mab’s eyes were black pools, but unlike Puck’s and Oberon’s, they contrasted sharply against the white of her face, giving her an even more unearthly, un _dead_ look than they’d worn, even in the morning sun. She was everything people expected of an Unseelie Queen: black clothes, black hair, black eyes, and skin such a pale, pale white that it looked like porcelain. She was also very, very quick to listen.

“Then I suppose we’ll need to ready ourselves for a war,” she sighed, sat upon a pale marble throne. “Or at least have a way to contact you on hand. I don’t suppose you brought something?”

“Tomorrow,” Lance promised, tail lashing. “Today was reserved for meeting with leadership and establishing some form of rapport. We’d not expected such a quick agreement.”

“Titania is as proud as I am, but she does not wish to acknowledge that threats exist,” Mab said. “I do not like to admit it, but I must. This ‘Haggar’ must be stopped, whether her threat to us is true or not.”

Lance nodded slowly, well aware of the eyes upon them. “I honestly expected you to need more convincing. We all did.”

“I am _Unseelie_ , incubus,” Mab hissed, irritation apparent. They were separate from the rest of her court in a small meadow, hidden in the shade among a copse of firs, but some still clung to the trees and watched them. “War and strife is in my blood, my bones, the very air I breathe. It is my soul in ways it could never be a Titania’s. I am not evil, but I am not the cutesy mischief of Titania and hers.”

Lance’s eyes flickered to Puck at her side, who shrugged. “My agreement lies with Mab. I will take to convincing Titania and Oberon before nightfall.”

Lance bit his lip, turned to the others, and then back to Mab. He kept his eyes off of the shattered marble half-columns that ringed the clearing. “Shall we leave you, then?”

“The others, yes. You…” Mab stood and came closer, frowning. “I heard rumors of your skill with dance and music, from the few that speak from court to court. You entertained the Seelie, yes? Entertain us as well.”

“For a beauty such as yourself?” Lance asked. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I would be delighted to show you a few hours of… entertainment.”

(“That wasn’t even _subtle_ ,” Pidge complained.)

(“Shut up and let the man do his thing,” Keith hissed back.)

…Lance had a lot of fun in the Unseelie court too, after the rest of the team left once again. Sure, he only had one partner this time, but she seemed to enjoy his, ah, help. Being a demon certainly meant he could warm up the queen of the fall and winter courts better than most, at any rate. Doing it the way he did? Well, that just came with the territory.

(“Why?” Shiro asked, once Lance finally made it back to the Castle, sound exasperated and a little lost.)

(“Don’t you slutshame me,” Lance sniffed.)

(“I’m not slutshaming,” Shiro said. “I just want to know _what the hell you were thinking, trying to fuck someone you repeatedly told us was dangerous._ ”)

(“She’s hot, in my age range when fae rates are taken into account, the bragging rights are ridiculous, and hey! Currying the favor of a fae queen? Priceless, bitch.”)

(“Don’t call me a bitch.”)

(“Sorry.”)

o.o.o.o.o

They left Planet Sídhe without incident.

Lance may have sent a few prayers heaven’s way in his free time in thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title's from Macbeth.
> 
> This chapter... was SUCH a fucker to write. I hated doing it so much. I love reading fae fics, but writing them is... gah.  
> (The whole 'fae cursed/blessed Shakespeare with inspiration' line is an inside joke, because I've been saying that that's why I've been able to update so frequently since the first few chapters. The fae cursed me to write, with the stipulation that they had to feature somewhere.)
> 
> The current fae queens (and Oberon) are fairly young, and developmentally about Allura's age or a little older. Lance is almost eighteen, they're 19/20 by fae standards, and that's a small enough difference that it's not a problem to the involved parties.
> 
> Shiro's got his reasons for disapproving. He does NOT want to win a war because a teenager used his body sexually. What he's struggling with is the idea that Lance is, in fact, capable of making his own decisions, and that "I want to sleep with them because they're hot and I like sex" is capable of existing in tandem with "sleeping with them would be a good political move," without the latter rendering the whole thing ethically unsound.  
> (He wants to go back to plain old "punch the problem in the face and it'll go away" instead of "how do I know if my younger teammate doing this of his own free will instead of because he expects it'll help with a war he shouldn't even be fighting in the first place?")  
> (Lance is doing this because he wants to, just to be clear. He's taken the politics into account, but his choice is his own, and he would NOT be doing this if the politics were the only factor.)
> 
> I had fun with the fae designs.  
> (I can't imagine Puck as white, and I always imagine him as short with green hair, and all three elements are because of a production of Midsummer Night's Dream that I did tech for in high school.)  
> I also had fun with the history stuff! Coran's middle/surnames are all very European: "Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe" doesn't really sound like an alien name, does it? Allura sounds European too, and words like "tick" and "juniberry" have elements too similar to English words/concepts (tick-tock and berries as a kind of plant) to dismiss as coincidence when I have a way to explain them. So... I did. Ta-da!
> 
> I PROMISE THE MARISOL THING WILL BE EXPLAINED SOON. A LOT OF THINGS ARE GOING TO MAKE MORE SENSE IN A FEW CHAPTERS.


	35. In the Secret Parts of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which biology catches up with the cast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE I HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE FOR BEING LATE THIS TIME. KIND OF. I strained something in my neck and had to spend most of day in bed because sitting up hurt too much. I couldn't write because pain, basically, so this was almost all written after midnight.
> 
> Warnings: There's a Galra heat in this chapter. It's really just xenobiology. Mpreg is _mentioned_ as a hypothetical at one point, but it's an empty worry as the result of a misunderstanding. All the typically squicky stuff isn't here (because I really, really hate dubcon).

Lance woke up with a feeling of unease. He stared at the wall, mentally tracing over the near-perfect metal, and then sighed as he realized that he’d be getting no more sleep tonight. He rolled over to get up, and met a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” Lance screeched, flailing to his feet and leaning against the wall as far away as he could. At least, he tried to. What he actually did was get caught in his blankets and crumple to the floor.

Keith tilted his head and stared at him. “Hi.”

“What the _fuck_ , Keith?” Lance squawked, trying to get out of his blankets.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to take the Lord’s name in vain or whatever? Or is that just about God and not Jesus?”

“ _What are you doing in my room?”_ Lance asked, finally untangling himself and sitting up. Keith had barely moved from where he said cross-legged on the floor next to the head of Lance’s bed, just his head and shoulders to watch Lance fall.

“I… don’t know?” He shrugged. “I guess I was watching you.”

“Watching me sleep?” Lance asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s creepy as fuck, dude.”

“But…” Keith frowned. “I do it all the time when I wake up before you do after we sleep together?”

“Yeah, and that’s not creepy because we’re already in the same bed, and I’ve accepted it as a natural consequence of falling asleep in the same bed as someone who wakes up at the asscrack of dawn!” Lance said, not bringing up his personal gripe that he’d hoped that how early he got up for his beauty routine would somehow let him beat Keith. “Sneaking into my room to watch me sleep is _very different_.”

“I didn’t sneak in,” Keith said. “I just opened the door and sat down.”

Lance stared at him. “Okay, can you just like… not do this again? To anyone? It’s creepy.”

Keith shrugged. “Okay.”

“…so,” Lance said. “Why were you doing this in the first place?”

“I woke up and it felt like something I should do,” Keith said.

“You are really committed to the whole ‘Red Paladin runs on instinct’ thing, aren’t you?” Lance muttered. “And why are you Galra?”

“Felt right.”

“…that’s it?” Lance asked.

“Yeah.”

“You woke up and thought ‘gee, going Galra and watching Lance sleep is exactly the thing I want to do right now’ and just did it?”

“Yeah.”

“…So are you just gonna keep sitting there, or…?” Lance eyed him, curious and a little unnerved by how Keith was staring at him.

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

“Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“No,” Keith answered. His tail whipped back and forth along the floor a few times, hitting Lance’s bed and desk. “But I… I think I need a person right now.”

“Need how?”

Keith frowned, and then shrugged. “I just… need cuddles?”

Lance stared at him for a long moment, because for all the shit that had come up in their lives so far, especially as a result of the varying mental illnesses that had been slowly worsened by the war, Keith ‘needing cuddles’ had never been one of them. Enjoying cuddles? Sure. _Needing_ them, though… that was more Pidge and Hunk and Lance. Even Allura, on occasion, and Shiro, though he hated to admit it. Coran and Keith were the ones that appreciated contact but didn’t get struck by cravings for it.

Until now, apparently.

“You know what? It’s like… three in the morning and I haven’t had nearly enough sleep for this bullshit,” Lance said, getting to his feet and climbing back into bed. “Hop in, and next time just wake me up and _ask_ instead of sitting next to my bed like a creeper, okay?”

Keith brightened immediately, and crawled in between Lance and the wall, immediately taking the role of the big spoon. “Thanks. You smell nice.”

“…dealing with this shit in the morning,” Lance decided.

He fell back asleep to the sound of Keith purring loud enough to rival a lawnmower, his furry tail wrapped around one of Lance’s legs.

o.o.o.o.o

When Lance woke up, it was to the sound of Keith was still purring, the sensation of a tail that wasn’t his wrapped around his leg, and the feeling of something fairly stiff but getting stiffer pressing against his ass.

“Keith? Could you get your morning wood away from my ass?” Lance requested with a sigh.

“Hm?” Keith asked, the purring barely pausing.

“Your dick. It’s hard. It’s also against my ass,” Lance said, feeling a little exhausted. “I’m still _really_ tired and would like to go back to sleep, so can you just… turn around? Or go take care of that in the shower or something?”

Keith pulled away for a moment, sitting up. Lance sighed and snuggled back into his pillow, resolving to turn around and be the big spoon if Keith decided to go that route so they could both go back to sleep.

“That was fast,” Keith commented, and Lance resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting more sleep tonight until he addressed… whatever this was.

“What was?”

“I jerked off before came here,” Keith said, very, very matter-of-fact. He sounded politely confused. “That was two hours ago.”

“Your refractory period is two hours?” Lance asked.

“Not if I’m trying,” Keith said, still sounding vaguely befuddled. “But it should be longer if I’m just sleeping, right? Am I supposed to get hard again this fast?”

Lance closed his eyes and wished he could bury his face in his pillow. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Can this _please_ wait until it’s actually time to wake up? I’m really tired. Can you just… lie down and let me be the big spoon until it’s time to wake up?” Lance knew he was whining. He didn’t care. “Like, is this a thing that we can put off or do I have to take you to medical?”

“It can wait,” Keith said, lying down with his back to Lance and brushing his tail over Lance’s legs again.

Lance rolled over and pressed up against Keith’s back, slinging an arm over Keith’s side and burying his face into the mullet.

He actually didn’t mind the purring.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance woke up for a third time with a sneeze.

He sat up, giving Keith’s hair a little glare for tickling his nose like that, and checked his clock. He’d actually slept in a little, since it was the half day that the Alteans needed more sleep on, and he accepted that _this_ time, maybe, it was a good point to stay awake. He rolled his neck this way and that, and relished in the cracks.

A grasping hand came up to pull at his bathrobe, then dragged him back down into an embrace.

“You could just _ask_ ,” Lance complained. “Literally just… just ask!”

Keith didn’t answer, simply readjusted himself to push his head up under Lance’s chin, purring even louder. Lance stared at him for a few long seconds, and then brought up the hand that wasn’t trapped under him to run through Keith’s hair.

“Uh… you okay, buddy?”

“Mm… I don’t know,” Keith said, and then pressed closer and rubbed his face against Lance’s collarbone a few times. “You smell _really_ nice.”

“That’s… good?” Lance said. Come to think of it, Keith smelled a bit different himself. Kind of… sweet? “Are you sick? Or like… drugged or something?”

Keith made a noncommittal noise and shrugged, still apparently intent on getting close enough to Lance for them to fuse into a single being. Something hard pressed against Lance’s leg, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Keith, can you leave off on the hugging until after you get rid of your morning wood?” Lance asked.

“Not morning wood,” Keith yawned. “Just really horny. Can we fuck?”

Lance… had to take a pause there.

He stared at the wall behind Keith’s head, past the large, flicking purple ears just at the edge of his sight, and fit everything together. His sleep-fogged mind was having trouble slotting the pieces into place, but after a bit of thought, he figured he had his answer.

“Lance?”

“Maybe,” he answered, instead of committing. “Keith, have you eaten anything weird lately?”

“Mm… don’t think so,” Keith mumbled, pressing little kisses up and down Lance’s throat.

“Okay, enough of that,” Lance said, putting his hand between Keith’s head and his, and pushing Keith away. “Not right now, dude, okay?”

Keith looked… well, it was hard to tell, given the Galra yellow, but he seemed to look down at Lance’s hand, pressing against his nose, mouth, and chin. He then reached up and pulled Lance’s hand down until he was sucking on Lance’s fingertips, looking up at Lance through his lashes.

Lance stared at him, and then pulled his hand away. “Stop.”

Keith tilted his head.

“No sex,” Lance said, and sighed as Keith drooped. “Not right now, anyway.”

“So… later?” Keith asked, perking up.

Lance thought of the erection that was still digging into his leg, and shook his head in what was mostly exasperation. Okay. Keith was… apparently having some trouble thinking right now. “Maybe. Probably. First, we’re going to get dressed and brush our teeth and stuff. Then we’re going to go to medical, to check some stuff. Then we’re going to have breakfast. And _then_ , maybe, we can have sex.”

Keith stared at him, blinking slowly. “Why?”

“How clearly are you thinking right now?” Lance asked.

“…pretty clearly,” Keith decided after a little thought. “I’m just really horny.”

“And easily distracted?” Lance asked drily.

“Mm,” Keith sighed, pressing his face to Lance’s neck again. “We can cuddle, right?”

“Keith, I’m like ninety percent sure you’re in heat,” Lance said, almost laughing. “So yes, there will be cuddles, with me and whoever else agrees to it.”

A pregnant silence filled the air.

“In _heat?_ ” Keith yelped, sitting up straight and staring at Lance. “What?”

“Did you forget it might happen?” Lance asked, levering himself up onto his elbows. “Or did you just not connect the dots?”

Keith gaped at him, and then turned to glare at his dick like it had betrayed him. After coming to the conclusion that this wasn’t going to help his boner disappear, he threw his hands over his eyes and fell back against the pillows again. “Ugh!”

“There’s the grumpy, fuzzy asshole I know,” Lance laughed. “Feeling more awake now?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Need a minute?” Lance asked.

“More like a cold shower,” Keith grumbled. This lasted about three seconds, and then his hips bucked up against the air and dragged a whine from his throat. “Or a good fuck. That would… that would definitely help.”

“Well, I’m willing to help with the fucking once we’ve made sure that it’s a heat, gotten some more information, and gotten some food and water in you,” Lance promised, running a hand through Keith’s bangs and crooning when he leaned into the touch. Yellow eyes peeked out at him from between purple fingers, and Lance chuckled. “C’mon. Clothes and tooth-brushing first. Then we can do the rest.”

Keith let out an inarticulate, frustrated groan, and buried his face against Lance’s side. “Can we at least get rid of the boner before I have to walk down to the med bay?”

“…Alright, you win that one,” Lance allowed. “One blowjob, _then_ morning stuff and the med bay and food, and then we can tell people what’s going on and just hide out in here or your room until it blows over.”

“Here,” Keiths said, already rolling over to throw a leg over Lance’s and rut shamelessly against his leg. “It smells like you.”

“And I smell nice?” Lance teased, sitting up and pulling Keith more fully into his lap.

“ _Really_ nice.”

o.o.o.o.o

“I still can’t believe you had to come _three times_ to get that thing to go down,” Lance said, digging through the cabinets in the med bay, hunting down the scanner that the Blade had given them. “I’m really hoping that’s normal for Galra.”

“I only had to do it once before coming to your room,” Keith said. He was curled up on his side on one of the examination tables, too loose for a fetal position, but nowhere near straight. His eyes, half-lidded, were focused on Lance as he moved about the room. “Maybe it gets worse as it goes on?”

“Probably,” Lance said. “If it’s anything like animals from Earth, then it’s probably a… fuck, what’s the word?”

“Bell curve?” Keith offered.

“Yeah, that.” Lance shut one of the cabinets and huffed in frustration. “Where the _hell_ is that scanner?”

Keith didn’t offer up a suggestion, so Lance just went over and leaned against the table, sighing. “Looks like we’re going to have to wait for someone else who actually knows where the fuck we put that thing.”

“Mm,” Keith hummed low in his throat, pulling Lance backwards against the table. Lance figured out what he wanted, if not immediately, and hopped backwards to sit on the exam table. Keith let out a happy little… trill? Or something? And he scooted up to put his head in Lance’s lap and closed his eyes, facing Lance’s stomach.

“You,” Lance accused, running his fingers through Keith’s hair and drawing out more purrs, “Are unfairly cute like this.”

“Does that mean you’ll fuck me again?” Keith asked, cracking open one acid yellow eye to presumably stare up at Lance.

“Not _here_ , asshole,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “I distinctly remember being told that refraining from sexual activity wasn’t actually going to hurt you if the heat happened. I mean, I don’t remember _everything_ , but—”

“Paladins?”

Lance felt a wave of relief, and maybe a little awkwardness, wash through him at the voice. He turned his head towards the door and smiled. “Coran! Hey, we were wondering when you’d be up.”

“Is there a problem?” He asked, striding closer and putting his hands on his hips. “I thought we’d recalibrated the Castle’s sensors to filter out human microbes as well?”

“Ah, nobody’s sick,” Lance said. “Well, probably. Do you know where the heat scanner the Blade gave us is?”

Coran’s eyebrows shot up, but all he said was, “Ah, yes. Were you looking for it before I arrived?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t find it,” Lance admitted. Coran walked over to one of the cabinets that Lance was pretty sure he’d already gone through. “I tried not to move anything too much, though.”

“Yes, this all looks to be mostly in order.” Coran pulled away from the cabinet with the scanner in hand. “I’ll need your wrist, Keith.”

Keith made an annoyed noise, but held out his hand for Coran to press the scanner to his wrist. After about fifteen seconds, the scanner beeped, and Coran pulled away.

“Well, I suppose that’s that,” Coran said. “I’m not sure if you’d like a congratulations or not, but it does seem that you’ve entered your first heat. I’ll contact the Blade to inform them that we’ll be needing those suppressants.”

“Ugh,” Keith said, burrowing his face a little deeper into Lance’s stomach. “This sucks.”

“It could be worse,” Lance told him. “All it’s been so far is you being extra horny, extra cuddly, and a little… scatterbrained?”

Keith groaned in annoyance. Lance very pointedly did not laugh at him.

“You got a pamphlet or something on this?” Lance asked as Coran finished putting away the scanner. “Or like… a list of what to do, what not to do, and what to expect?”

“I don’t have any pamphlets, no, but there should be a few articles on the subject in the computer,” Coran said. “They’re from the Blade, and Pidge’s translation program should be able to give you a copy in… English? Yes, in English.”

“How long is this gonna last?” Lance asked. “Got a basic outline or something for us while you pull the articles up?”

“Oh, they rarely last more than two weeks,” Coran assured him. “They’re cut down to half that time with… assistance.”

“Sex.”

“Well, yes. That kind of activity does speed the process along, since it’s the primary reason the heats exist at all,” Coran said. “Keith is still in the early stages at the moment. The arousal will come in waves, and he’s going to feel a fairly intense craving for physical contact in between, both for partners and for family, or at minimum physical proximity.”

“Yeah, he broke into my room to watch me sleep last night, so I kinda figured,” Lance said drily. “The hazy mental state?”

“Fairly normal, if I recall correctly,” Coran said, sounding sympathetic. “Generally speaking, a Galra in heat will remain mostly cognizant throughout, but more agreeable and drowsy than usual around people they trust.”

“Aw, Keith’s Galra side trusts us!” Lance cooed, playing with one of Keith’s ears. He yanked his hand back as Keith swatted at it. “Ow! Watch the claws!”

“I didn’t even _touch_ you,” Keith grumbled.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Lance sniffed.

“Yes… well,” Coran coughed. “I’d suggest staying away from strangers unless absolutely necessary, as the heat will likely make Keith much more aggressive around strangers and enemies.”

“He’s already so fighty, though,” Lance said. “How much more fighty can he _get?”_

“Very, I imagine,” Coran said, with poorly concealed amusement. “I don’t suppose you had a plan for the rest of the day?”

“Getting some food and water into both of us, then seeing where the instincts took Keith,” Lance admitted. “I know some species back home where a heat can leave them so mentally fuzzy that they forget to take care of themselves, so I was planning staying with him in case that happened.”

“A good plan,” Coran said. “Though for the periods of the heat where the arousal is lower, I would suggest attempting to… what was the term you humans use?”

“Neither of us is fully human,” Lance pointed out.

“Earthlings, then,” Coran said, though the look on his face, while clearly finding it as funny as Lance had, was a little reproaching. “I believe you have called the gathering a ‘cuddle pile’?”

“Pretty sure we can make that work,” Lance said with a grin. “You hear that, fuzz-butt? You’re gonna get _all_ the damn cuddles.”

Keith just grumbled again.

o.o.o.o.o

“Just finish your damn goo,” Lance said, pushing Keith’s hand back towards the spoon that was still in the bowl. “I let you sit on me, fine. Now _eat._ ”

Keith slumped in his seat, which happened to be Lance’s lap, and focused back in on the food again.

“He doesn’t _seem_ that different from usual,” Pidge said.

“It’s still early on, apparently.” Lance poked Keith’s ribs. “ _Eat_.”

“My stomach feels weird,” Keith complained, but nonetheless took a bite of the goo.

“What kind of weird?” Hunk asked. “Like, you could probably eat if I made something else? Or does the heat thing not affect your appetite at all?”

“Uh…” Keith made a face. “I don’t… know.”

“No cravings at all?” Shiro prompted.

“If it’s anything like a period—” Pidge started, and Keith made an annoyed noise.

“It’s not menstruation!” Keith said. “It’s just… enhanced arousal or whatever, not some weird ‘could be pregnant’ thing!”

“That’s not what I was getting at!” Pidge protested. “I’m just pointing out that if it’s anything like cyclical reproductive bullshit from home, cravings _might_ be a thing!”

Silence reigned.

“…oh,” Keith said, subsiding.

Lance snorted and pressed his face to the back of Keith’s neck. “C’mon, asshole. Hurry up.”

“Sorry, Pidge,” Keith muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Keith shrugged and focused in on his food again. Towards the end of the meal, when everyone had moved on to other topics, he finally spoke again. “Sugar.”

“What?” Allura asked, looking over.

Keith blinked at her, and then turned to Hunk. “I think I’m craving sugar.”

“You’re always craving sugar,” Hunk said.

Keith shrugged. “I think it’s more now.”

Hunk gave Shiro a questioning look. “Should I indulge him or…?”

“Well,” Shiro said, shrugging. “This is going to be happening only once a year, right? Might as well.”

“Alright, Keith,” Hunk said. “This once, I’ll agree to your ridiculously high need for sweets.”

Keith nodded, but didn’t answer. Instead, he scraped the last bite of food goo from his bowl, and then wiggled until he was sitting sideways on Lance’s lap. Their eyes met.

“You do realize that trying to give me puppy eyes doesn’t work when you’ve got _Galra_ eyes, right?”

Keith blinked at him. “You said we could go back to your room after we ate.”

“Yeah, I did,” Lance acknowledged. “But… it’s not your turn, so…”

Keith frowned. “My turn for what?”

…that would be the brain fuzz from the heat, then. “Blood, Keith. I haven’t had that part of my breakfast yet.”

“Oh.” Keith’s head thumped down onto Lance’s collarbone, and he pressed his face into Lance’s neck, apparently ready to just wait this out.

Lance looked down at the deadweight Galra in his lap, then turned to face Shiro. “I don’t…”

“I’ll come there,” Shiro said, standing up and already rolling back the sleeve on his human arm. Lance brightened, his eyes finding the artery nearest the surface without trouble, and deliberately ignoring the scarring around it.

That actually reminded him… “How’s the neck scarring?”

“I’ll live,” Shiro said drily, then relented and continued at the look Lance gave him. “The mark is minimal. I don’t think anyone’s going to question it among all the others. You should really be more concerned about everyone else.”

“I still feel bad about adding to it,” Lance said.

“And I’m telling you not to,” Shiro said as he came to a stop next to them. “Out of all the scars I’ve gotten, this is the only one that’s directly served a positive purpose. You even _asked permission_. Trust me, that’s one scar I don’t actually feel negative about.”

“…two,” Lance said.

“What?”

“It’s two scars, since, you know, two fangs,” Lance said, a little embarrassed.

Shiro rolled his eyes and shoved his elbow under Lance’s nose, barely avoiding Keith’s head. “Just drink, Lance.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Lance said, when Keith finally seemed to run out of energy.

“Mm?” Keith inquired, or at least seemed to, as he climbed half on top of Lance to tuck his head into the crook of Lance’s neck again. The purring, which hadn’t really _stopped_ at any point since Lance had carried him back into the room, kept going.

“You are _so_ lucky I’m an incubus,” Lance said. “Because I’m not sure I could have kept that up much longer.”

Keith shrugged, which caused a hitch in the purring but little else. His tail swished back and forth across their legs.

“You came _five times_ ,” Lance said. “After three this morning and one last night before you showed up.”

Keith pulled back and blinked up at him. “Is that a problem?”

“It would be if I was fully human,” Lance muttered. “How are you feeling? Tired? Sore?”

“…really good,” Keith admitted. He pushed his nose back into the soft skin of Lance’ neck. “You smell even better now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lance sighed. He reached up to brush his fingers through Keith’s hair again. “You wanna stick around here until you’re ready to go again, or what?”

“Mm… want cuddles,” Keith muttered, pressing as close to Lance as he feasibly could. “Not just you.”

“…so, wait until you’re a little less tired, then clean up and head for the commons and snuggle up to whoever’s in the room?” Lance asked.

“Sounds good,” Keith sighed, though he seemed distracted.

“Okay,” Lance said. “We’ll just… do that.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Has he stopped purring at all?” Shiro asked.

“Barely,” Lance said, stretching.

Keith did not comment, as he was curled up against Shiro’s side, very much indulging in the cuddles that he’d said he needed.

“Huh,” Shiro said, rubbing at the points where Keith’s ears met his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this content.”

“Yeah, he’s… really laidback like this,” Lance said, tickling at the inside of Keith’s ear. “Aren’tcha?”

Keith batted at his hand, and when that didn’t work, grabbed Lance’s arm with his tail and pulled it away.

Lance laughed.

Keith snorted and opened one eye. “Lance.”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s ‘Llura?”

“Doing princess stuff on the bridge,” Lance said. “Why?”

“…cuddles,” Keith decided, after an almost comically long time thinking. “She should be here.”

 Shiro shot Lance a look, getting himself a shrug in return.

“Okay, dude,” Lance said, ruffling Keith’s hair. “I can go tell her that you’d… appreciate it if she were here for the cuddle times.”

“Good,” Keith said. “She’s important.”

“…yes, she is,” Lance said, though he had a feeling that he meant something very different by that than Keith did. Or… well, if he thought the vampire way, maybe it wasn’t that far off. “I’m gonna go talk to her, okay?”

o.o.o.o.o

There did end up being a cuddle pile, at one point. Nobody had been overstating just how much platonic and familial affection Keith would be craving between all the sex.

(Lance also did end up having to cap how much energy he took from Keith while having sex, and very quickly. It was one thing to know that he was incapable of truly fucking someone to death. It was quite another to _actually_ see his reserves approaching full due to frequency of activity, rather than the more common ‘I slept with someone absurdly powerful.’)

“Fucking cuddle monster,” Pidge laughed, sitting in Keith’s lap and getting the stuffing hugged out of her. “You’re worse than Lance usually is!”

“I resemble that remark!” Lance chimed in. “But seriously, this level of cuddles is nice.”

Considering the fact that Keith was sitting on Hunk’s lap, with Lance to one side and Allura to the other, and Pidge in his own lap, there was indeed a lot of cuddling going on. Even Shiro and Coran had taken up places on the floor to be nearby, if not exactly touching.

Keith didn’t bother addressing them, just kept on purring.

(To be fair, Keith didn’t say much during the height of his heat unless it directly related to one of his current needs. “Can we fuck?” and “I need to cuddle,” were the most common, along with a simple “Okay,” for 90% of people’s suggestions regarding food, water, and hygiene. Keith in heat apparently didn’t do much in regards to words.)

o.o.o.o.o

“Ugh, that was… really annoying,” Keith said, the day after his heat was officially done with, the last of the hormones having passed out of his system sometime in the night.

“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” Lance asked, puncturing a water pouch with a straw and passing it over.

Keith frowned down at the pouch, thinking. He started drinking, moving his stare to the floor instead, and Lance waited patiently. He raised his eyebrows when Keith finally stopped drinking.

“There were… pleasant elements,” he said. “But I don’t like the idea of being that suggestible, and I’d rather have the focus to keep training regularly instead of having to stop for a week because of _this_.”

“Well, at least you’re only suggestible around people you trust?” Lance said. “And hey, you can still fight when necessary! You were _vicious_ when Lotor sent that warship after us.”

Keith shrugged. “I guess.”

“Well, it’s only once a year, since you’re going to have those suppressant things,” Lance reminded him, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “And you’ve got all six of us ready to give you all the cuddles you need, and I’m right here for the sexy bits.”

Keith snorted and leaned into Lance, putting his head on Lance’s shoulder. “It feels weird to go back to human after spending a week as Galra.”

“Wanna stick to purple and fuzzy?”

“Nah, not really.” Keith readjusted his position, playing with Lance’s hand. “At least I didn’t do anything _too_ weird?”

“You were pretty much just limiting yourself to really insistent cuddles with anyone who’d agree to it, and getting pouty when we tried to make you take care of yourself,” Lance agreed. “And asking me for sex four or five times a day, which was a little ridiculous even _without_ taking the fact that it lasted an hour or two each time into account.”

“You’re okay, right?” Keith asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Incubus, remember?” Lance put his finger on Keith’s nose. “This is _literally_ what I’m made for, from a species standpoint. Don’t worry about it. I was more worried about _draining_ you by accident or something.”

“I’m fine, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you are,” Lance sighed. “And hey, Allura was kind of flattered that she was just after me and Shiro on the list of people you most wanted cuddles from in between the sexy bits.”

Keith made a face. “She’s…”

“Important?” Lance quoted back at him.

“Yeah,” Keith said, shrugging. He pulled away from Lance, looking a little uncomfortable. “We’ve gotten a lot closer. Given how much we talk now that we’re doing the whole thing with _you_ , she’s as close a friend as anyone else on the ship. And I _do_ end up cuddling her more than anyone except you on a normal basis, just because of the threesomes. I guess that left its mark?”

“I’m not judging you, asshat,” Lance laughed. “Just saying that I’m glad you guys actually _do_ care about each other that much, even if it’s not sexual. I like that you’re getting along for reasons that aren’t me.”

“You’re not that special, Lance.”

“That’s not what you’ve been saying for the past we—hey!” Lance put his hands up to protect himself from the attack. “No fair! I only have one pillow!”

“Too bad,” Keith said, raising said pillow up for another attack. “If you wanted an even pillow fight—”

“I didn’t want a pillow fight at _all_ , asshole!”

“—then you should have gotten more pillows,” Keith finished, nose in the air.

“Oh, that’s it!” Lance laughed. “You want a fight, buddy? You’re on! Allura’s room in three!”

“Bring it!”

She was totally gonna kick their asses. Or join in. Probably both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allura's room is the only one with enough pillows...
> 
> There are elements of heat fics that I like. There are elements of heat fics that I really, really hate. You can probably guess which are which based on this chapter.
> 
> The chapter title is from Hamlet. See entry 3 on this list: http://mentalfloss.com/article/54442/10-shakespeares-best-dirty-jokes


	36. With This Shepherdess, My Sister; Here in the Skirts of the Forest, Like Fringe Upon a Petticoat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All around me are familiar faces...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: accidental drug use (someone gets high because they didn't realize an alien substance would have that effect on them).

“Listen,” Lance said, lounging on his stomach across the back of the couch in full demon form. For all that it could have looked ridiculous, he knew that he made it look good. Mostly because he was an incubus, to be fair, but still. Cats could do it, so why couldn’t he? “All I’m saying is that sometimes you have to fuck your way out of a bad situation.”

“That sounds like coercion,” Pidge said. “On the part of whoever put you in the bad situation.”

“I think it sounds like a pretend proverb that no one _actually_ says,” Keith added.

“You’ve never heard someone say that before?” Lance asked, looking up at them. His tail flicked once. “Huh.”

“It sounds like something you’d think, though,” Keith said. “I mean, you flirt your way into a lot of bad situations—”

“Hey!”

“ _But_ you’ve also flirted your way _out_ of other bad situations, so…” Keith shrugged. “I guess that evens things out?”

“It does,” Lance said with a sniff.

“You’re so _weird_ ,” Pidge muttered. “Where’s Hunk?”

“Messing around in the kitchen since you don’t need him for science-y bullshit,” Lance said.

“My projects are _not_ bullsh—”

The PA system crackled to life.

“Paladins! You’re needed on the bridge!”

Lance shared a look with Keith and Pidge, and then shrugged and got to his feet, pulling Pidge up after him as Keith rolled up onto the balls of his feet on his own.

“I hope it’s less bullshit than the last few mission-related team meetings,” Pidge muttered as they made their way towards the door.

“Are we talking about the Hindenbaxi disaster, the Kiiripin fight, the random warship Lotor sent after us while Keith was high on biology—”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Keith asked.

“—the Vishinger fight, or what?”

“All of the above, plus _Planet fucking Sídhe_.” Pidge hissed the last words with a vengeance.

“What did you _do_ after I started dancing?” Lance asked, a little bemused. “Nobody else is this mad about the fae.”

“I’m too clever by half,” Pidge sniffed.

“…right,” Keith said, grabbing both of their wrists and speeding up. “We’re leaving.”

“Booooo,” Lance jeered, laughing a little when Keith yanked on his wrist in return, though Pidge would have described it as more of a yelp. “Hey! Mean!”

“We’ve got duties to attend to,” Keith said, sounding very much like he was trying to mimic Allura without the accent.

“Oh my god, you’re getting so _stuffy_ ,” Lance said. He shared a look with Pidge, then picked Keith up and slung him over one shoulder.

“What the—? Put me _down,_ asshole!” Keith flailed a little, but couldn’t get the right angle to kick Lance in the ass, or any other place that could have feasibly helped.

“Nope!” Lance said, spinning around a little as he walked down the hall. Pidge laughed at them. They got to the bridge like that, with Keith getting a little dizzy from his position on Lance’s shoulder and Pidge trailing after them with a wide grin on her face.

“Should I ask?” Shiro sighed at the sight of them.

“General tomfoolery,” Lance answered, finally putting Keith down. He bit his lip to hold back the laughter as he steadied Keith, who was having a little trouble with his balance and stumbling about. Lance waved to Hunk. “Hey buddy!”

“Hi,” Hunk said drily. “What’s wrong with Keith?”

“I _hate_ you,” Keith grumbled.

“Nah, you don’t,” Lance said, patting his shoulder.

“Ahem,” Allura coughed deliberately to get their attention. She faced them with a neutral expression once she actually had it. “We received a call from a known ship several minutes ago.”

“More accurately, it was a _request_ for a call,” Coran said. “It was in a text format, really. A simple ‘We have information. Can we talk?’ and that was it!”

“That’s a little weird, but not that bad?” Pidge said. “We’ve given out a lot of communicators, haven’t we? There are a lot of things that qualify as ‘known ships.’”

“This isn’t from a communicator we handed out,” Shiro said flatly. “Just a ship we’ve had contact with before.”

“You’re being unnecessarily dramatic,” Hunk said. “And I’ve been friends with Lance for _years_ , so trust me when I say that I know drama.”

“I want to be offended, but you’re not wrong,” Lance sighed, leaning his head back and putting the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, woe is me, that my best friend is—”

“It’s Rolo and Nyma,” Allura said, cutting him off.

Lance stopped talking.

“…oh,” Hunk said.

“It’s been like… _eight months_ ,” Pidge said. “And they contact us _now?”_

“I mean, we did tell them not to call unless they had something helpful,” Keith said. “I guess they figured it wasn’t worth it to piss us off unless they had something really good?”

“And calling us at all was a shortcut to pissing us off if they didn’t have something really good,” Hunk said. “So… do we take the call?”

“I don’t expect it will hurt,” Allura said. “But due to previous events, I felt it prudent to ensure that the entire team was here when we answered.”

“Well, here we are,” Hunk said. “Let’s do this thing?”

Allura pressed her lips into a thin line, but nodded. “Indeed.”

It took a few seconds for the call to connect, but they then got a video feed. It showed the cramped interior of the cockpit for Rolo and Nyma’s ship, and the two aliens were front and center.

“So…” Shiro said, hands on his hips and not-technically-glaring at the screen. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Rolo said, an unhappy quirk to his lips. “But we ran into someone that Nyma thought you’d like to know about.”

“I’m just saying that it can’t be a coincidence,” Nyma snapped. “And if it turns out that I’m right and we _didn’t_ say anything, we’d be even higher on Voltron’s shit list than we already were.”

“It’s a big universe. The chances of them knowing this _one person_ are—”

“How about you just tell us what the information is,” Hunk suggested, cutting Rolo off.

Rolo and Nyma looked at each other for a moment, and then Rolo started again. “A third of a deca-phoeb or so after we… ran into each other, Nyma and I looked up a few of my old rebellion buddies and talked our way into doing some smuggler work for them.”

“Just smuggling?” Pidge asked.

“My leg isn’t as fancy as your buddy’s arm there,” Rolo said, his voice dryer than the desert. “I’m not much good in a firefight, and my ship isn’t exactly top of the line or heavily armed either. Every rebellion needs a few old smugglers making the rounds anyway, for information, supplies, and even troop transport sometimes.”

“It’s a living,” Nyma said. “Anyway, we’ve been checking into base pretty regularly, and… well, everyone’s been talking about Voltron. We figured that if the higher-ups hadn’t contacted you yet, there was probably a reason. Point is, people talk, and the base is usually really busy.”

“Get to the point,” Allura ordered. “Or I will terminate the call.”

“We ran into another human,” Nyma said.

There was a moment of silence, and then Pidge rushed closer, pushing Coran out of the way. She demanded, “ _Who?_ ”

“We only talked to him for a few doboshes,” Rolo said. “I still think that just him being _human_ isn’t really enough reason to get excited.”

“There aren’t exactly a lot of humans flying around the galaxy, Rolo,” Nyma argued, digging through something off-screen.

“We don’t know the degree of biological diversity based off of _five people_. It’s probably just a coincidence and we called for nothing.”

“And I still say that we can’t dismiss that degree of resemblance, especially when the five humans we _have_ met before displayed a significant level of variety in terms of appearance,” Nyma said, with the tone of a woman who had run through this argument far more times than she thought was necessary.

“Could you just tell us _who_ already?” Pidge yelled.

“Found it!” Nyma exclaimed, and then held up a photo. “Got Beezer to snap this before we had to move. Look like anyone you know?”

“That…” Shiro trailed off, his face slack and his eyes wide. Rolo leaned forward, suddenly interested again. Nyma looked concerned.

“That’s my _brother_ ,” Pidge whispered.

It was Matt Holt.

He looked older than he had in Pidge’s photo, obviously, seeing as over two years had passed since that picture had been taken. A scar ran down the skin from his temple to his chin on the right side of his face, and he didn’t have the glasses that had apparently been a defining feature before his capture by the Galra. His expression, Lance guessed, was probably also a lot more serious than what Pidge and Shiro had known him to have, though he couldn’t be certain about that.

“I _told_ you!” Nyma said, turning to Rolo. “I _told_ you he looked enough like the little green one that it couldn’t be a coincidence.”

“An entire universe of people,” Rolo grumbled, pulling a wad of bills out of his pocket and counting out a few. “And we just had to run into the one human these guys are looking for.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Nyma said, plucking the bills from his hand and turning back to the screen. “So. You want us to put you into contact with our rebellion's high command so you have an excuse to come talk to this guy?”

Pidge whirled around to stare at Allura with naked hope in her eyes. Shiro stared too, though he looked a lot less like he was about to cry.

“…tell your commanders that we wish to speak with them,” Allura finally said. “We’ve been meaning to contact other rebellion groups in hopes of adding them to the Voltron Alliance anyway. Might as well make this our next stop.”

Pidge squealed.

“Did you guys seriously bet on whether that was Pidge’s brother?” Hunk asked.

“Bet on whether you lot knew him at all,” Rolo said. “I thought it wasn’t likely to happen. But I guess Nyma was right.”

“I usually am,” she said, looking just a bit like the cat that got the cream.

“Keep your lines open,” Allura said, drawing the attention back to the mission again, now that they had one. “Contact me as soon as your commanders have come to a decision about speaking with them. We will… refrain from telling them about your past indiscretions.”

“We’ll take the notification about Matt as a gesture of goodwill,” Shiro clarified. “But right now, you’re our biggest connection to this rebellion, so we need you available whenever possible.”

“We’re your _only_ connection,” Rolo corrected, but he sighed and nodded after a moment. “We hear you, loud and clear.”

“Good,” Shiro said flatly. “We look forward to hearing from you.”

“Ain’t that a change,” Rolo muttered, leaning forward to press a few buttons. “Well, goodbye for now, I guess.”

“Indeed,” Allura said, and the screen went dark.

Silence reigned, and then Pidge collapsed to her knees, hands over her nose and mouth as tears streamed down her face. Lance could hear the beginnings of hyperventilation coming from her. Next to her, Shiro was swaying back and forth, looking a little lost.

“Pidge?” Allura asked, crouching down next to her and putting a hand on Pidge’s back, right between her shoulder blades. “Are you quite alright?”

“They found him,” Pidge whispered, and then threw herself at Allura, wrapping her arms around Allura and clinging for dear life. “They found Matt!”

“I…” Allura looked around at the rest of the group, seemingly at a loss. Lance and Hunk mimed for her to hug back, and Allura proceeded to do just that, running a hand down the back of Pidge’s head and smoothing the hair. “There, there. You’ll be seeing him soon enough.”

“Shiro?” Keith asked, putting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “You good?”

Shiro’s mouth worked open and shut for a few moments, and then he swallowed hard. “I will be. Soon. It’s just kind of a shock.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Keith said, tone aiming for joking but falling a little flat. Shiro sent him a look like he appreciated it anyway.

“I’ll just… go?” Lance said, voice rising in question. Exchanging glances with Hunk and Coran, he headed for the door, Hunk a few steps behind him.

“This is gonna be so awkward,” Hunk said.

“Oh, absolutely,” Lance agreed. “But Pidge is gonna be happy, right?”

“There is that.”

o.o.o.o.o

“Hold still,” Lance said. “You wanted to do this as a distraction from the negotiations, so _work with me_ , short shit.”

“I’m just… really nervous,” Pidge said, fingers twitching even as she tried to hold her arms out straight to the sides. “What if he’s mad that I’m out here? What if he doesn’t recognize me? What if he yells at Shiro for getting me involved in this? What if he freaks out about me being on a team with you and Hunk and Keith? What if he freaks out about Keith being half-Galra? Are we telling him about you being half-incubus? What if he—”

“ _Breathe_ ,” Lance said around the pins in his mouth, putting a hand on Pidge’s stomach and matching her wide eyes with his own. His other hand rested against her back, awkwardly turned to avoid accidentally poking her with a needle. He exaggeratedly breathed for a moment, until Pidge matched him. He pulled back and removed the pins from his mouth. “He’s your brother. He’ll probably be worried. He’ll _definitely_ recognize you, assuming he doesn’t think you’re a clone. He might get mad at Shiro. I don’t think he’s going to be mad about you being on a team with boys he hasn’t met. And we can feel out the half-human stuff later. That doesn’t have to happen immediately, Pidge, it can wait.”

She bit her lip and stared at the floor. “So… why do I have to keep my arms out like this if it doesn’t even have sleeves?”

“Because,” Lance said, sticking the pins back in his mouth, “I want to make sure the dress sits right no matter where your arms are. Also, I’m messing around with the waist right now, and you’re too young to have significant hips yet, so I’m trying to give you the illusion of some. You’ll be able to put them down soon.”

“My shoulders are getting sore,” Pidge whined.

“Give me like… thirty more seconds,” Lance said. “Then you can put your arms down. I still wish Allura had a corset or something on board.”

“That sounds painful.”

“Eh, they’re good for shaping, if that’s what you want. Good for building dresses on top of, too, and I know some people use them for posture,” Lance said. “Okay, you can drop your arms a bit. Not all the way, though, because I’m still working on your waist.”

“I didn’t realize that just _adjusting_ a dress would be this time-consuming,” Pidge said.

“You wanted the floofiest of dresses, Pidge,” Lance reminded her. “I am giving you the _absolute floofiest_ , but that does mean a lot of layers to work with, which does take time.”

“I still can’t believe Allura had something like this just lying around,” Pidge said.

“I mean, I guess even actual princesses have a princess phase?” Lance joked. “And it’s even in your colors!”

“I’m not big on pastels, though.”

“It works on you here,” Lance assured her. “And with some adjustments here in the front and the gels your mom brought you, the paneling’s going to give you the kind of figure you wanted.”

“Yeah?” Pidge asked, glancing at the mirror that was unfortunately angled wrong for her to get a look.

“For a fifteen-year-old? Absolutely.” Lance shrugged. “Nothing like Allura currently has, or a lot of the girls back home, but you’re young. I’m going age-appropriate here.”

Lance could see the way Pidge almost shrugged, and was relieved when she caught herself before she moved in a way that ruined his adjustments. “I think I prefer age-appropriate over anything too exaggerated.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t have tried adjusting for adult curves on you no matter how much you asked,” Lance said. “Now I gotta move around to the back.”

“Okay,” Pidge said.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in!” Lance called as he shuffled around to the back of the dress. He thanked his lucky stars for the fact that the skirt of the dress actually started at the waist instead of the hips. Tea-length meant he couldn’t fudge the length on the petticoats as much, but it did mean less worrying over whether Pidge was going to trip over the hem, or about the hems getting dirty before the night was over.

“I’ve got snacks!” Hunk announced as he shuffled in. “I think they’re about halfway through negotiations, by the way. Coran said he couldn’t be sure, when I brought them water and stuff, but that’s what he said at the door.”

“Ugh, the waiting is killing me,” Pidge whined.

“Stop leaning back,” Lance ordered. “Seriously, do you want the hemline to be uneven?”

Hunk leaned over and poked Pidge’s shoulders until she was standing straight.

“This is torture too,” she said.

“Want a drink?” Hunk offered, holding out one of the water packs.

“Yeah,” Pidge said. “Thanks.”

“I like the wide opening over the petticoats in the front,” Hunk offered. “It’s… like a really wide tulip skirt over petticoats? Or a mullet skirt over petticoats? Or… Lance? This is all stuff I learned from you; what’s the actual terminology?”

“Can’t remember,” Lance admitted. “Might just be that. It’s been a while since I last did something fancy like this while actually using terms instead of just bullshitting it.”

“I suddenly feel a lot less confident in this,” Pidge said.

“I am… _offended_ ,” Lance said.

“No, you’re not,” Pidge said. “If you were actually offended, you’d either be yelling or getting really quiet and looking hurt while hoping someone notices and asks you what’s wrong while you avoid everyone.”

Lance and Hunk both paused what they were doing.

“…you’re too perceptive for your own good,” Lance said, shaking his head and focusing in on his work. “You’re not wrong, but maybe don’t call me out like that?”

“I’m still mad at myself for not realizing so much stuff at the Garrison,” Pidge said. “So I’ve been paying lots of attention, and that means I’m picking up on stuff. The only other person in the room is Hunk, and I’m pretty sure that he already knows anything I notice, and has for years.”

“I mean, _yeah_ , but…” Hunk trailed off, sharing a look with Lance.

“We love you too, short shit,” Lance said.

“Pffft, obviously,” Pidge sniffed.

Lance and Hunk did their best to keep the conversation going so Pidge did, in fact, remain distracted.

o.o.o.o.o

“Are you sure?” Pidge asked, for the fifth time. “Are you sure they got him to be there?”

“Yes,” Shiro said, for the fifth time as well. “We confirmed it with the rebellion leaders _twice_ Pidge. They found Matt, and they may not have told him why he needs to be there, but he _will_ be there.”

“Breathe, Pidge,” Lance said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

“I feel like we should have taken a smaller lion down,” Keith said. “Isn’t Black kind of…”

“Imposing?” Allura suggested. “Yes, she is, but we spoke with them and while they do not have the room for the Castle, or indeed, all of the lions, they wanted a symbol of Voltron’s power and ability to fight back against Zarkon. The Black Lion is the largest and most imposing, but also the most impressive to a crowd that wishes for a symbol.”

“There’s our signal,” Shiro said, easing Black forwards towards where the radio wave was coming from. Soon, a small, familiar ship was in sight, and Shiro accepted the video call without complaint.

“Oh, it’s you guys again,” Hunk said.

“They thought you might want some familiar faces as guides,” Rolo explained.

“We didn’t bother to correct them,” Nyma added.

“Well, _I’m_ not complaining,” Lance said, leering at the screen.

Nyma and Rolo blinked.

“Lance, _why?”_ Hunk asked, burying his face in his hands.

“I handcuffed you to a _tree_ ,” Nyma reminded him. “That… was a thing that happened.”

“Not the worst thing a girl has done to me on first meeting,” Lance said. “The worst thing involved swords.”

“Wait, is this about Alyssa?” Hunk asked, turning to squint at Lance. “I thought you didn’t sleep with her.”

“I didn’t,” Lance confirmed. “But I’m just saying that getting handcuffed to a tree is _really minor_ compared to some stuff in my life.”

“At least you didn’t follow your sister’s example,” Shiro muttered. “Lance’s flirting aside, we’d like that path to the rebellion base now. We do have a schedule to keep to.”

“On it,” Rolo said, and the smuggler ship turned around and headed off. “We’ve got some pretty decent shielding on the whole place, so it’s hard to find. From what I hear, though, you guys have fallen in with a crew that does even better.”

“We’ll be sharing that information with higher personnel only,” Allura said stiffly.

“That’s fair,” Rolo admitted. “Brace yourselves and slow down a bit here.”

They did, and after they passed a certain seemingly unremarkable point, the base bloomed into being in front of them.

Lance whistled in appreciation. “Man, that’s big.”

“That’s what she said,” Pidge muttered, seemingly on instinct.

“Really?” Shiro questioned. “Really, Pidge? We’re about to try to broker an alliance with one of the biggest rebellions against Zarkon’s empire, and you’re making ‘that’s what she said’ jokes?”

“I’m fifteen,” Pidge said, as innocently as she could. “It’s age-appropriate humor.”

“We are a _trainwreck_ ,” Keith said, though he sounded like he wasn’t the slightest bit bothered by this revelation. He actually seemed delighted.

“Aw, but babe, we’re _your_ trainwreck!” Lance cooed, leaning closer to Keith and batting his lashes.

“Kill me now,” Shiro said, under his breath but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No, then Keith would get all emo again,” Hunk said. “So would everyone else. Also, we kind of like you?”

“Just kind of?” Shiro asked.

“Well, you do keep trying to bring back the swear jar,” Keith pointed out.

“And _these_ are the people trying to save the universe,” Rolo said. “Nyma, are you sure it was a good idea to put them in touch with the rebe—”

“Yes.”

Lance snickered as Shiro brought them in for the landing.

“ _Behave_ ,” Shiro ordered, just before opening the Black Lion’s ramp. “Matt’s going to be waiting with people further in, so there isn’t a scene here in the hangars, Pidge.”

“Gotcha.”

They trooped out, then, in full uniform. There was unsurprisingly a crowd around them in the hangar, silent and watching. They looked fairly disapproving, or at least tense and withholding judgement. Lance paused as they walked past Rolo and Nyma, and with only half a thought for the order to behave (because he _was_ ), he took Nyma’s hand in one of his own. He tucked his other hand behind his back, bowed forward and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. He looked up without straightening up, and saw that she looked torn between confusion and laughter.

“For luck,” he said, and winked.

She actually did laugh at that. “You haven’t changed much, have you, Lance?”

“Well, I’d say I’m still charming and handsome, wouldn’t you?” He straightened up with a smile and some finger guns.

“You know? I actually would,” she said. “And still protecting the universe, right?”

“And that just warms the cockles of my heart, _buuuuuut_ I’ve got a job to do so… see ya!” he winked again, and then turned around and jogged off, rejoining the group.

Shiro was pretending not to be annoyed, but Allura was watching the crowd around them. After a moment, she touched Shiro’s forearm and leaned over to whisper into his ear, drawing his attention to the way that the tension in the crowd had started dissipating. There weren’t exactly smiles now, but they were whispering, glancing over at Nyma’s amused smirk and waving arm and then at Lance’s easygoing stride, next to the more professional march that Shiro and Keith had going on, or the true princess walk that Allura was rocking.

He hadn’t made them comfortable, but… it was a start.

o.o.o.o.o

They made their way down narrow halls following some representative Lance hadn’t caught the name of. Their formation was exactly as it always was, at least in spirit: Allura and Shiro at the front, Pidge and Keith in the middle, and Lance and Hunk bringing up the rear. This time that ‘in spirit’ just happened to be reflected in reality.

(As an actual formation, it wasn’t even _bad_. Lance and Hunk had the distance bayards, the rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty kinds, so it kind of made sense to put the two of them at the back, if not for the fact that it wasn’t the best idea to have them in the back at the same _time_. Shiro and Pidge were both close-range, while Keith and Allura were mid-range, which meant that each two-person row had one close- and one mid-range combatant to cover each other’s bases.)

Keith bumped elbows with Pidge more than once, a silent support in the middle of a situation where words maybe weren’t the best idea. Lance kept an eye on the edges of each area they passed through, picking out training rooms and barracks and all the little hiding places he might have needed if things went south. He was sure that pretty much everyone except Pidge was doing the same. She and Shiro were a little emotionally compromised here, but Shiro’s response to being keyed up in any way tended to be very much a product of where he’d spent the last few years.

“In here,” the representative said, waving one purple arm towards a door at the end of one hall. A standard-looking meeting room was just past the doors, and while Lance didn’t think it was _bad_ , per se, he’d learned to look with the politician’s eyes that Allura had trained them all in.

Either the rebellion didn’t think they were worth better, or they didn’t _have_ better in the first place. Going by the generally utilitarian and rundown feel to the place, Lance was willing to place his bets on the latter. It was clean, but there was enough rust in corners and cramped barracks rooms that he had a feeling the people here were more concerned with using every space to its maximum potential than they were with anything approaching grandeur.

Matt Holt was sitting inside the room, looking very out of place among the more brightly-colored species, given his sandy hair that matched his skin tone a little too closely to stand out. He was also smaller than the aliens, and distinctly uncomfortable. He did perk up a little as he saw the team come in, though, probably seeing the bipedal forms and what parts of their faces the helmets didn’t hide and realizing that, maybe, they were a little more human than he’d expected. Granted, Allura was the only one with her face showing, so he probably figured they were Altean right now, but maybe he assumed that the superficial similarity in species between Alteans and humans was why he’d been included.

“Princess Allura,” one of the older-looking aliens said, stepping forward to shake her hands. Their skin was a pastel shade of yellow, and a feathery green crest rose above a sharply angled face with three grey eyes. “We hadn’t thought to believe the rumors could be true.”

“Representative Xytolon, correct?” Allura reached out to shake his hand and nodded. “Whatever misgivings you may have had, Voltron _is_ real, and we’ve already defeated Zarkon once.”

“Prince Lotor and the witch Haggar, however…” Xytolon trailed off.

Allura winced. “They’re proving to be a bit more troublesome, yes. We would prefer to be able to coordinate with existing rebel groups in order to maximize our effectiveness against the empire. While we do well in liberating specific planets and in neutralizing large swathes of the Galra high command, we are only a handful of people and will not be able to maintain long-term presences on most of the planets that we’ve freed. Save for a few particularly useful planets such as Olkarion and a Balmera, we haven’t maintained long-term contact because we simply cannot afford to.”

“There are… rumors,” Xytolon said after a moment, voice hushed. They licked at their lips almost nervously before continuing. “That you made contact with the Blade of Marmora.”

“…we have,” Allura confirmed. “They have proven dedicated to the cause, and sacrificed a number of their own to take down Zarkon, and in the half a deca-phoeb since.”

“Impressive,” Xytolon said, though there was an edge of… _something_ in their voice.

“I believe only the black paladin and myself will be necessary for further negotiations and planning today,” Allura said. “Though there is also something I’d like to see taken care of before we continue.”

“Ah, yes, what we discussed on the line,” Xytolon said. “I am… unsure of how to bring it up.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Allura said. She turned to face the other rebellion members. “Matthew Holt?”

Matt blinked and jerked in place, shock evident. “Uh, yeah? That’s me?”

“You don’t sound very sure,” Allura said.

“I am _very_ confused about why you’re calling me out in particular,” Matt admitted. “Also, why you know my name.”

Allura pursed her lips, and if it weren’t for how long he’d known her, Lance didn’t think he’d have noticed the twist of wry amusement on her face. “Some of my paladins have been looking for you for a very long time.”

Matt’s confusion didn’t last much longer, at least not in its current form, because Pidge took that as her cue to remove her helmet.

“… _Katie?”_

Matt was gaping.

Pidge didn’t answer so much as toss her helmet to the ground and sprint over to her brother, throwing her arms around his torso and burying her face against his chest.

Matt stared down at her, apparently frozen, and then seemed to realize that his little sister was crying into his clothes. He wrapped her up in a hug slowly, like he didn’t quite think she was real, and then looked up at the others.

Shiro pulled off his helmet too. “Good to see you again, Holt.”

“What the _actual fuck happened?”_ Matt demanded, his voice cracking on the words. “Why is my sister in space? What happened to your hair? Are there any other familiar faces hiding under those helmets because I am _very fucking confused right now_.”

“You don’t know me or Hunk,” Lance said immediately, grabbing Hunk’s elbow and taking a step back.

Keith shrugged, pulling off his helmet. “I think we only met two or three times, so…”

Matt frowned. “Keith? What—okay, seriously, what?”

“Pidge got kidnapped by a giant blue robot lion with the rest of us about… eight or nine months ago?” Lance frowned, then shrugged. “And we’ve been fighting the war against Zarkon ever since.”

Matt stared at him, then down at Pidge, then looked up at Shiro. “What the fuck.”

“Your sister chose her fake name based on a pokemon,” Shiro said, pretending to be helpful.

(He may have been the second-closest thing they had to an adult on the Castle, but he was still, on occasion, a little shit.)

“Why did you need a fake name?” Matt asked, looking down at Pidge.

“To join the Garrison so I could find out what happened to you while I was there,” Pidge said, not lifting her head.

“…you couldn’t just join the normal way?”

“Not after I got arrested and banned from the premises for breaking and entering, trespassing, and hacking into classified government materials,” Pidge said, finally pulling back to give him the most innocent look she could.

Matt stared at her, then up at Shiro, then around at the aliens in the room.

“Maybe we should take this outside?” Hunk suggested. “I mean, there is still a meeting happening about alliances.”

“You got a place we can hang out and talk?” Lance asked. “Shiro can’t come, but…”

“I—yeah, yeah, I know a place,” Matt said, shaking his head. “Katarina, you’ve got a _lot_ of explaining to do.”

o.o.o.o.o

“I can’t _believe_ you,” Matt groaned, burying his face in his hands. Pidge stayed pressed up against his side, grinning. “How do you get yourself _into_ these messes?”

“Oh, come on,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes and kicking her legs back and forth against the storage container they were sitting on. “It’s not like anyone else on the team is normal. Hacking into classified government files is _nothing_ compared to the rest of the team.”

“Except me,” Hunk said.

“Except Hunk,” Pidge agreed.

“I mean, I get why that works regarding Shiro,” Matt admitted. “But the others?”

“Well, Allura’s a magical alien princess from a civilization that died out ten thousand years ago,” Pidge said. “Coran’s her advisor, and has the _weirdest fucking stories_ that somehow all happen to be proven true by really _random_ former acquaintances of his that we run into sometimes.”

“I’m only half-human,” Lance offered.

“Same,” Keith added. “But I didn’t know until a few months ago. Lance grew up in…”

“The supernatural community, Keith. You can say it.”

“Well,” Matt said, getting to his feet and coming a little closer. There was a teasing hint to his smile, but an enjoyable one. “While I’m perfectly willing to believe that someone this pretty isn’t fully human, I’m going to have to ask about that supernatural bit.”

“Half incubus,” Lance said with a grin, shifting his eyes and horns and ears into place. He left his teeth for last, showing them off as he took one of Matt’s hands into his own. “Vampire subspecies.”

“Wow,” Matt said, sounding honestly impressed. “Mind telling me a bit mo—”

“Matt, he’s seventeen,” Pidge said, cutting him off.

“ _Whoa, okay, never mind_ ,” Matt yelped, letting go of Lance’s hand and taking a big step back. “I did _not_ realise that.”

Lance blinked. “Wait, what? How old are you?”

“I’m _twenty-three_ ,” Matt said, sitting down next to Pidge again and letting her go back to her needy koala impression. “So, uh, no offense, but—”

“No, no, no, none taken,” Lance assured him, waving his arms frantically. “You just look a _lot_ younger than—”

“I’m just _really_ bad at guessing ages and figured Katie had mentioned mine at some point, and—”

“We get it,” Keith cut them both off, looking up from the box he was rummaging through. “Neither of you realized you were flirting outside of what you consider your acceptable age range.”

“Aw, babe,” Lance crooned, jumping over to sling an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “You know you’ll always be my _favorite~!”_

“Ew,” Keith said making a face. “Why would I want that?”

“Well, the sex is good,” Lance reminded him. “And I saved your life last week.”

“There is that,” Keith acknowledged.

“Anyway, what are you looking a—” Lance stopped talking mid-word, staring at Keith’s hands. “How.”

“Huh?” Keith followed Lance’s stare. “Oh. Yeah, I just figured I’d see what was in here after Matt said we could look around.”

“You found booze again.”

“ _What?”_ Matt demanded, though he didn’t get up and storm over to them, as Pidge was still clinging to him like a limpet. “I’ve been looking through the boxes for alcohol ever since I got here. I’ve been doing this for _months_. I have run across alcohol _once_ , and the entire base knows by now that the only people who can drink it are me and these two Kerrissians down in communications, and I’m _pretty sure I already looked through that box!_ ”

“Why does the entire base know?” Pidge asked.

“They were bragging about being able to drink something that poisoned most species, so I challenged them to a drinking contest.” Matt frowned. “And I won.”

“You’re… such a lightweight, though.”

“Yeah, well, apparently humans have higher tolerances than Kerrissians do,” Matt said. “So I’m known as the guy who can drink poison now.”

“That seems like it could have some really bad side-effects,” Hunk pointed out.

“It’s caused some issues,” Matt acknowledged. “By the way, what kind of booze is it? More Kerrissian wine? That’s what it was last time.”

“Uh… Sam Adams,” Keith said, looking at the six-pack of brown glass bottles.

“Beer,” Matt said, staring at him in disbelief.

(Lance buried his face in his hands. Hunk and Pidge tried to hide their laughter, and failed miserably.)

“Uh, yeah?” Keith said, looking down at the bottles again. “I don’t think it’s expired, either.”

“Beer from _Earth_ ,” Matt clarified.

“…yeah?” Keith said.

_“How.”_

“Keith has magical booze-finding powers,” Hunk said.

“Oh my god, just give the man a drink,” Lance moaned, lifting his head. He gave the beers a dirty look. “Those should not exist. They shouldn’t _be here_ , any more than the French whiskey at the backwater alien bar or the tequila from the night of the bet.”

“You know what, I don’t even care anymore,” Matt said. “Just give me one.”

Keith shrugged and passed over the entire pack. “What’s the stuff in this box even supposed to be?”

“Recreational substances, I think,” Matt said. “Some of it is a little useless, though. Like, there’s a little bag in there that looks like it’s filled with oregano? Actually smells like mint, and doesn’t affect more than two or three people on board.”

“Safe for humans?” Hunk asked.

“Completely,” Matt assured him. “It’s basically seasoning for us. Not even very good seasoning. I think it might work better in a potpourri or something.”

“Huh,” Keith said, opening the bag and taking a sniff. “He’s right, it does smell like…”

He swayed on his feet for a moment, and then sat down on the floor with a thump.

“Um,” Pidge said. “Keith?”

Keith stared down at himself, then up at Lance, who was still standing next to him. “What happened?”

“You sat down on the floor for no reason,” Lance told him. “Are you… okay?”

Keith blinked at him, and then down at himself. “The floor is swaying.”

“Matt?” Pidge asked quietly. “Which species, exactly, is that supposed to affect?”

“Galra,” Matt said. “There aren’t any long-term consequences and it’s got a long history, so they usually store it in bars and stuff.”

“…Keith’s half Galra,” Hunk told him.

“Oh,” Matt said. “That makes a lot of sense. I mean, Chitoyaxi is basically like… catnip for Galra, so…”

“Keith accidentally got high on Galra catnip,” Hunk said, and then laughed like he was feeling a little dead inside. “Oh man, Shiro and Allura are going to _kill us_.”

“Lance, why am I on the floor?”

“You’re high,” Lance said, and then leaned down to sit on the floor next to Keith, who immediately brightened and pushed his way into a hug, nuzzling against Lance’s chest. “And apparently this is what the Blade meant when they said some common drugs might be mistaken for your heat. Great.”

“I just had the heat a few weeks ago,” Keith said, stopping his nuzzling in favor of frowning at the ground. “It’s too soon for another one.”

“Heat?” Matt asked, sounding a little confused and a little apologetic, but also rather amused as well.

“You’re not in heat again,” Hunk assured him. “You’re just apparently _really baked_.”

“But I’m not in an oven?”

“You drugged yourself,” Lance said flatly. “And we’re going to make sure you never run into this Chitoyaxi stuff again.”

“Mm… okay.”

“Katie?” Matt said.

“Yeah?”

“I get what you meant about your team being weirder than you now.”

“Wait until someone asks Lance about the list of species he’s had sexual encounters with.”

“His what now?”

o.o.o.o.o

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, looking very much like he’d rather be burying his face in his hands and screaming.

“So, explain to me again why Keith is high?”

“He opened a bag without realizing it was basically Galra catnip,” Pidge said. “After he found more booze, but we gave that to Matt.”

“It’s not even a bad brand,” Matt said. “I’m just really confused about how he _found it_.”

“By being Keith,” Shiro said flatly.

“And ergo ridiculous,” Pidge added.

Shiro sighed. “Do we know how long this’ll take to wear off?”

“Uh… I don’t know many other half-Galra,” Matt admitted. “There’s a few on the base, but the only one I’ve recently talked to was… I don’t know his name.”

“It was me.”

The team slowly turned to stare at Rolo. He gave them a sarcastic wave, and Beezer beeped from next to him.

“…so, how long?” Hunk asked, visibly side-stepping the urge to be rude.

“He just sniffed the bag, right? Didn’t injest any or get it into his system somehow?” Rolo asked, coming closer. “He should be fine in a varga or two.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” Shiro sighed. “And where the hell is Lance?”

“He disappeared a few minutes back when we left the storage bay to come find you,” Pidge said. “Not sure where he went.”

“That’s actually why I came to find you,” Rolo said, giving them a grin that didn’t look the slightest bit happy, but maybe like he found something a little funny. “Apparently, he and Nyma took over my ship.”

“…what.” Shiro said.

“They kicked me out,” Rolo added.

“It’s been _three fucking minutes_ ,” Pidge said. “Fucking _how?”_

“He’s _Lance_ ,” Hunk said, as if that explained everything, which… well, it did.

Shiro really did bury his face in his hands that time. “I regret _everything.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "As You Like It." (Sister here is actually used for nuns, not siblings, but whatever.)
> 
> I considered Matt/Lance, way back when I was planning this arc, but then I decided that I wanted a different interpretation for Matt (and for his age), and took his future down a different path.
> 
> At this point, nobody is really bothered by Lance getting laid so much anymore. They're mostly just bothered that it's NYMA.
> 
> Also, there's reference to a line from a popular Bleach fic in here. Think you can spot it?


	37. Come, Thou Monarch of the Vine, Plumpy Bacchus with Pink Eyne!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love the smell of unexpected plot threads coming together, don't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are so many running gags and offhand comments from previous chapters coming together in this one and honestly? I am _so_ happy to finally pull them in.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: alcohol happens, mythologies are referenced, and Keith's brain breaks a little.

“It’s been… forever, I guess, since we added someone to the team,” Hunk said. “I don’t think Slav and the Blade even really count.”

“Well, I guess I’m good for something?” Matt said, scratching the back of his head. “Two birds with one stone or whatever. You guys get a tie to the rebellion, and I get… well.”

He patted Pidge’s head, seeing as she was still hugging him, especially here on the couch in the rec room.

“Does Lucy count?” Lance asked, fiddling with his bowl of food goo with a spoon.

“Who’s Lucy?” Matt asked. “I thought I’d met the entire team after that Coran guy?”

“Well, there’s still the mice and Lucifer,” Pidge said.

“We’re _not naming the cat after Satan_ ,” Lance protested, for the millionth time. Mentally, he called out to the cat in question and asked for her to come down from wherever she was. “Why is it not enough for her to just be Lucy?”

“Why do you want to name a cat after Satan?” Matt asked. “Where did you even get a cat?”

“Lance made it,” Pidge said, entirely unhelpful. “And I spell it ‘fur’ because puns.”

“My vote was for Luci-purr,” Hunk said.

“Why?” Matt asked. “Like, I get the pun, but why Satan? How did Lance _make_ a cat?”

“Magic,” Keith said, lounging back on the other couch and glaring at the ceiling.

“Are you still mad about the Galra ca—”

“ _Yes_.”

A scratching noise came from the ceiling vent, which swung open after a moment. Five small forms, ranging in size, fell out. Three of them were riding on the back of a fourth, and the mice scampered over to Lance immediately. He held out the spoon with the food goo to them, and watched as Lucy made her way over to Matt.

“Uh…” Matt said, staring. “That’s a cat made of fire.”

“Yep,” Pidge confirmed.

“Is… she? I guess with a name like Lucy… anyway, is she safe to touch?”

“Yeah, but she sheds soot instead of hair, and it’s a mess to clean up,” Lance said. “Feel free to pet her, but let her sniff your hand first.”

“I know how to approach a cat, kid,” Matt said, holding his hand out to Lucy.

“She’s made of fire and demonic energy; you don’t know shit.”

“Watch your mouth,” Pidge teased. “Or Shiro might bring the swear jar back _again_.”

“Wait, what?” Matt asked. “Why was the swear jar needed in _space?_ I thought he just did that to make Keith stop… uh…”

“They know about Emiko,” Keith said.

“Right, well, then to stop Keith from teaching her bad words,” Matt finished.

“Fun fact: Lance being a supernatural creature means we managed to figure out a way to contact home,” Pidge said. “And his sister has a friend that’s _very_ good at magic, so they worked out a way to teleport here. First time was just the two of them. Second time…”

Matt’s eyes widened. “You’ve seen Mom?”

“Yep!” Pidge nodded rapidly. “I can’t wait to tell her we actually found you, though. She’s gonna be _ecstatic_.”

“Oooooh, big word,” Matt mocked.

“Stop,” Keith said.

“I agree with Keith,” Pidge said, and then frowned. “Well, that’s never a good sign.”

“Fuck you,” Keith said, voice muffled as he’d rolled over onto his stomach.

“Language,” Pidge sing-songed.

Lance snorted. “Anyway, yeah, that’s Lucy, and the mice are Chuchule, Platt, Chulatt, and Plachu.”

“Interesting naming scheme you’ve got going on for the mice,” Matt commented.

“That was all Allura,” Lance said.

“Huh…” Matt said. It looked like he was about to continue the thought, but then he simply closed his mouth and went back to petting Lucy. “This feels so weird.”

“I know, right?” Pidge said. “You keep expecting the fire to burn, and then… you get _that_ instead.”

Lance leaned back into his seat and let the conversation continue without him. He eyed the gap underneath the seats below Keith and slumped over until he was lying down on his side, with a clear view of the empty gap between the couch and the floor. He was pretty sure he was the only one that could see it, which suited his purposes just fine.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asked. “My sister left a bottle of bourbon here last time and apparently it’s like _right_ under you. Mind grabbing it?”

Keith groped around under the couch for a few moments, not even looking, and Lance closed his eyes. This was followed almost immediately by a pleased noise from Keith, the dull scrape of glass against the floor, and a light thud as the bottle hit the table in the center of the room. Lance whooshed out a breath and opened his eyes, sitting up to stare down the bottle.

“Why did Mari bring bourbon?” Hunk asked. “Why was it under the couch?”

“She didn’t,” Lance said. “It wasn’t. I lied.”

Everyone blinked at him. Hunk, as per usual, was the first one to get it. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open.

“You don’t think—”

“Wait, what?” Keith asked, sitting up.

“Keith, that bottle didn’t exist thirty seconds ago,” Lance told him. “Or if it did, it was _somewhere outside the Castle_. There was nothing under the couch, and you couldn’t find the bottle until _after_ I closed my eyes.”

“Are you saying that the alcohol magically came into existence as soon as Keith thought about finding it and nobody was observing where he was reaching?” Pidge asked.

“Yes.”

Keith looked down at the bottle, and then back up at Lance. His face could have, with a little imagination, been compared to that of a stunned lemming. “What.”

“It’s like… quantum booze magic?” Matt said hesitantly. “Am I getting that right?”

“Well, it’s not science if we don’t test it,” Pidge said, leaning forward. Her glasses glinted in the light. “What about vodka?”

“What?” Keith asked.

“If none of us watch, could you pull out a bottle of vodka?” Pidge asked. “Like, to make sure this isn’t just a fluke or a trick.”

“We call out alcohol names and just see if Keith can pull it out of nowhere?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah,” the Holt siblings said in unison.

Keith stared at them, and then glanced down and reached between his legs to grope around below the couch.

“Quantum effect,” Lance said, sounding about as dead inside as he felt. “Can’t look.”

Keith closed his eyes. and so did everyone else.

There was another thunk, and Lance opened his eyes to see the bottle of Grey Goose.

Keith was staring at it with a degree of confusion and mild hostility that was much more common on other people’s faces when he did this trick.

“Here,” Lance said, pulling off his jacket and tossing it to Keith. “Put it over your knees so we don’t have to close our eyes every time.”

“How many more times are we going to do this?” Keith asked.

“As many times as it takes to prove it’s not a trick or a fluke,” Pidge said. “I’d say at least thirty trials.”

“Sounds right to me,” Hunk said.

“Same,” Matt added.

Keith looked at Lance, who shrugged. “I have my suspicions, buddy, but I agree with the nerds. We need to test this… and _then_ we can call the experts in.”

“Your sister,” Keith said, like it was a foregone conclusion, which it kind of was.

“More than you’d think,” Lance said, hearing his own exhaustion in those words.

“Try Heineken,” Matt said, and after a few seconds, a green glass bottle was joining the others on the table.

“Šljivovica,” Pidge suggested.

“I don’t even know what that _is_ ,” Keith complained.

“Try anyway,” Hunk said.

An unmarked bottle with some chunks of plums at the bottom showed up next. Matt picked it up and uncorked it, taking a sniff. Then he took a sip and nodded, coughing. “Yep. That’s definitely it.”

“Fuck the cola,” Pidge said.

“Fuck the pizza,” Matt added with a grin.

“All we need is Šljivovica!”

Hunk, Lance, and Keith all stared unabashedly.

“It’s… it’s a Serbian thing. Practically a meme,” Matt admitted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Right…” Lance said.

“Sake?” Hunk suggested. “Or tequila?”

“Mai tais,” Lance added.

“Strawberry daiquiri,” Pidge said.

“Rosé wine,” Matt chimed in.

“Soju?”

“Rum!”

“Mojitos.”

“Brandy.”

“Caipirinha!”

“Lambanog.”

“Grappa.”

“Scotch.”

“Mastika!”

“Unicum.”

“Wait, what?”

“No, trust me, it’s an alcohol, not sex stuff. Unicu—see?”

“Maotai.”

“Ouzo.”

“Arak.”

“Canelazo?”

“Tej.”

“Aguardiente.”

“Akevitt.”

“Urwaga.”

“Guinness.”

“Port Wine.”

“Gammel Dansk.”

“Why the _fuck_ do you all know so many kinds of booze?”

“I tried to learn how to mix drinks one summer because I thought it would impress girls. It didn’t, but I got a part-time job as a bartender, so that worked out, at least.”

“I’m not even surprised, Álvarez.”

“Brennivin!”

“Ogogoro.”

“Champagne.”

“Sangria.”

“Genever.”

“Schnapps.”

“Springbokkie!”

Suggestion after suggestion, more bottles appeared on the table. They even tried switching to Keith pulling them out of his jacket, something that should not have worked simply due to how little room there was inside the fabric, but somehow did. Eventually, there were several dozen crowded there, with a large section of the table occupied so densely that the surface wasn’t even visible.

Keith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and dug his fingers into his hair. He stared at the bottles, wide-eyed. Save for Matt testing two or three to make sure they were exactly what had been suggested, none had even been opened.

“Um,” a voice came from the doorway, and Lance looked over to see Shiro, Allura, and Coran standing there. After a moment, even Kolivan shifted into view, peeking over Shiro’s head. Shiro, to his credit, didn’t stay surprised for much longer, and just continued talking. “What’s going on?”

“What the fuck,” Keith whispered, not looking away from the alcohol.

“Keith’s magic booze-finding ability is more magical than we thought,” Pidge said.

“There’s so _many_ ,” Keith whispered again, sounding very, very lost and confused.

“I can see that,” Shiro said. He took a few steps closer, eyeing the table like it was going to bite him. “What exactly happened?”

“Name an alcohol,” Matt told him.

“Uh… absinthe?” Shiro offered.

Keith wordlessly reached into his jacket and pulled out a liter bottle of clear liquid, one that was far too large to have logically fit inside, and pushed it into the crowd of glass and colored liquids.

Lance watched as the adults’ (and Allura’s) faces went through a few odd changes, but mostly just involved raising eyebrows and widening eyes.

“… _how?”_ Shiro asked, sounding like a broken man. “How the _fuck?”_

“Did you just _swear?”_ Matt demanded, sounding delighted.

Shiro gestured wildly at the table. “I think I have a good reason!”

“Right,” Lance sighed, getting to his feet. “This has been fun. Keep _having_ fun, while I go call in the big guns. Coran, can you help me get in contact with my sister? I know calling the communicators we gave our families is a bit weirder than the usual.”

“I… yes, I can.” Coran eyed the table. “I don’t suppose you will be _using_ any of that?”

“Eventually,” Hunk said, before anyone else could. “ _Drinking_ it all would be a bad idea, unless we spread it out over a long time between all six of us—”

“Not Pidge,” Shiro said immediately.

“—but I can use it in my cooking in ways that get rid of most of the alcohol, so we can still use it without getting drunk,” Hunk finished, ignoring Shiro’s interruption and Pidge’s protest.

Lance slipped out of the room.

“I expect you have some idea of what’s going on?” Coran said as he and Lance made their way down the hall.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve actually been kind of suspecting for a while?” Lance rubbed the back of his head. “But until earlier today, when Keith found some beer in a box that Matt said he’d already looked in, I wasn’t really sure enough to test it.”

“And what is it, exactly, that you were testing?”

“…I think I should wait until someone confirms it independently before I say anything,” Lance admitted. “It’s a bit complicated.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Coran said. “Now let’s go call that sister of yours.”

o.o.o.o.o

Lance led the way back fifteen minutes later.

“So… what am I supposed to be looking at here?” Marisol said. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Nina leaned against the doorway behind her, arms crossed and blowing obnoxious bubbles with bright pink gum. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Lance, I’ve got ideas, but…”

“Name a type of alcohol,” Lance said.

“…Everclear,” Marisol said, sounding somewhere between wary and resigned.

“Keith?” Lance prompted.

Keith reached under the couch and pulled out yet another bottle of clear liquid. He held it in his hands for a moment, and then sighed and added it to the table. He then proceeded to bury his face in his hands.

“Oh boy,” Nina said, almost laughing.

“Yeah,” Lance said. He scratched the back of his head. “So, verdict? Was I right?”

“I had my suspicions too, honestly,” Nina said. “The bottles he brought me before had a little too much magic to just be coincidence.”

Marisol frowned and came closer, bending over at the waist with her hands tucked behind her back to examine the bottles a little more closely. Her body shifted over to demon form, and Lance made his way around to watch her. She turned to Keith after a bit of examination. “Hey, kid?”

“Yeah?” Keith asked, looking up.

“Can I taste some of your blood? I promise it’s relevant.”

He made a face, but held out his arm nonetheless.

It took all of fifteen seconds for Marisol to groan and bury her own face in her hands. “I fucking _knew it._ ”

“Knew… what?” Matt asked. “Also, hi, who are you?”

“I’m… wait, okay, new person. Kind of ignored you there, sorry. Hi, I’m Marisol, Lance’s older half-sister. And… ugh, this is so weird to explain.” Marisol made a face.

“How old is she?” Matt asked Pidge, voice pitched as low as possible.

“Fifty-six,” Pidge answered, and laughed as Matt’s eyebrows rose. “Immortals, Matt. I think she said she was—”

“Locked in at my mid-twenties,” Marisol said, cutting her off. “And yeah, Lance was right. Nina was too. I’m not handling this bullshit on my own.”

“See, I told them I was calling in the big guns, but I didn’t really expect you to call in a _bigger gun_ ,” Lance said, his voice a little dry.

“Yeah, well, I’m not explaining this shit.” Marisol pulled out a phone and started typing on it. “And before anyone says anything: I’m not calling a normal person, so the phone _should_ work regardless of range, all things considered.”

“Like…” Shiro prompted.

Marisol pulled the phone up to her ear and smiled in relief as someone answered. “Hey, Dio? I need a second opinion and an explanation on… well, on a teenager that looks like he’s in a situation more like mine than I thought. Hm? …yes, there’s booze. Awesome, see you in a few.”

“How is your friend getting here?” Allura asked. “Are they coming the same way you did?”

“Uh… no. Nope.” Marisol pursed her lips. “He’s, uh… weird?”

“Well, that’s fuckin’ rude.” A tanned, muscled arm slung around Marisol’s shoulders, attached to a man who definitely hadn’t been there two seconds earlier. “Hey.”

Everyone stared, except Nina, who rolled her eyes, and Lance, who just said, “Hey, Dio.”

Shiro was staring at the man’s head, presumably due to the laurel wreath tattoo that wound around his head.

“Ladies and gentleman and variations thereupon,” Marisol drawled, stepping away and gesturing to the man like they were on a stage. “May I introduce Dionysus, the Greek God of Wine and Revelry?”

“’Sup?”

“…Lance,” Pidge said, her voice far too calm. “What the actual fuck.”

“You already knew that Nina had a date with Hecate one time because of my sister’s connections,” Lance said, shrugging. “Meet the connection.”

“I’ll admit that I haven’t left the solar system much before,” Dionysus said, ambling over to the table and not outwardly acknowledging the way everyone leaned away from him a little. He snatched up the bottle of port wine and opened it, pulling a glass from nowhere in a trick of the light, and pouring himself a bit. “Anyone else want some?”

“How about an explanation instead?” Keith asked. “Is that something that can happen? _Please_ let it be something that can happen.”

“I’m kind of curious about why… uh…” Shiro trailed off as everyone looked at him. “He looks like the Dionysus from WicDiv. It’s… confusing?”

“The thing about being a god,” Dionysus said, taking a long drink. “Is that we kind of _can’t_ show our true forms to mortals, or, you know, bad shit happens. Burnt-to-a-crisp type bad stuff.”

“I’m immune,” Marisol said cheerily.

“Point is, I get to choose how I look, and let me be honest, I was _hooked_ when those were coming out back in the twenty-teens,” Dionysus swirled the wine in its glass. “And, hey, if you’re gonna choose how you look from scratch, why not spend your time honoring one of the most spiritually accurate portrayals of what it means to be _you_ that exist? It’s like I spend all my time cosplaying.”

Shiro didn’t answer, just stared.

“Anyway,” Marisol said, coughing into her fist. “You get why I called you here, right?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” Dionysus nodded. “The kid’s been screwed since day one.”

“ _What._ ”

He waved the wine glass around, somehow not spilling it. “I mean, that’s overstating it, but yeah, you’ve got something hanging over your head, kiddo. Have since you were a baby. I can feel it from here.”

“Who did it?” Lance asked.

“Can’t tell you that,” he said. “I mean, I _know_ , but it’s common courtesy to not spread the information, you know.”

“Common courtesy?” Keith asked, disbelief in his voice. “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Okay, how about I explain my story and then Dio can take over from there?” Marisol said, stepping forward and holding her hands up in a placating manner. “That work?”

“At this point, I think _any_ kind of non-cryptic answer would be helpful,” Shiro said.

“Hey, I already gave you one,” Dionysus said, grinning a wine-stained grin. “You asked why I chose this form, and I gave you a satisfactory answer to that. Now… well, I’m guessing Mari here might be able to ease you into it a little better.”

“Gee, thanks,” Marisol said. “Anyway, uh… basically, long story short, I hooked up with Dio like… thirty years back?”

(Nobody looked very surprised.)

“Thirty-two,” Nina said.

“Right, thank you. Thirty-two years ago. Me being me, I managed to make it _very_ good for him, and then… received a little something in return.”

“Please,” Shiro said. “No dramatic pauses.”

“Fine, fine,” Marisol sighed. “Point is, he tried to give me a blessing, because he was a god and I’d been a good lay, and why the fuck not, right? Except he was hammered as all hell, because _god of wine and revelry_ , so he kinda messed it up. First tried to give me a blessing of having an interesting life, then realized that most people consider that a curse, and then instead of taking it back, he just added on another, more generic protection blessing. The two of them paired together did some interesting things.”

“Oh…” Pidge said. “So that’s why your life is ridiculous?”

“Oh, no, my life was already ridiculous,” Marisol assured her. “This just upped the intensity of said ridiculous. Namely, instead of my little brother doing a normal ridiculous thing like joining a cult or getting blackout drunk and calling me to come pick him up from another state the next morning, he _joined a fucking alien war._ ”

“I don’t think the blessing was to blame for that one, honestly,” Dionysus said, pouring himself another glass of wine. Or maybe it was his third. He also added some vodka to it. “I’m not feeling the magic too strongly on my end.”

“Are you implying,” Kolivan said, stepping forward and drawing the attention of the room, “That Keith is under a similar… blessing?”

“Well…” Dionysus drew the word out. “Depending on the pantheon, or the locale for the gods and spirits and entities that don’t follow a pantheonic model, the term ‘blessing’ and ‘curse’ isn’t really all that acceptable. I can’t tell you whether it is or isn’t in this case, because as I said, it’s considered pretty rude to give out information on the subject that the being in question hasn’t provided themselves. But yes, I’d say that _someone_ has taken an interest in the kid, and that it’s done plenty to affect his life.”

“I’m already fighting a space war and half-alien and dealing with a bunch of weird shit,” Keith groaned. “Why are we adding _this?”_

“Kid,” Dionysus said, patting Keith’s knee. “The whole half-alien thing is probably why they took interest in the first place.”

“And the interest is probably why so much of the other shit happened,” Marisol added. “Like, uh…”

“Like really random shit working out for you,” Pidge said. “Like, okay, after Kerberos went kaput—”

“Oooh, nice wordplay.”

“—thanks, Matt—anyway, after Kerberos, you dropped out, right? Found the shack to live in just a few miles outside the Garrison—”

“I inherited that from my dad, though.”

“—started sensing the Blue Lion—”

“At this point I’m half-convinced she was just using me because I was the most convenient way to get to Lance.”

“—found and somehow deciphered the ancient Altean cave markings—”

“Hey, that took a _lot_ of work!”

“—somehow found the explosives necessary to cause a distraction after sneaking into the Garrison on a night that you knew nothing about other than that the cave markings said something—”

“They weren’t that hard to steal, and I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“—did all that and knocked out the guards—”

“It wasn’t that hard, Pidge.”

“—and only _then_ did you realize that Shiro was there—”

“I _actually_ had nothing better to do that night. I’m not sure what else to tell you.”

“—and you did all this on a freaking _hunch_ , only to wind up also finding three more people capable of piloting the other lions and forming Voltron.” Pidge spread her arms wide as though that would explain everything.

“Lotta coincidences there,” Dionysus pointed out.

“Are we sure that half of that isn’t Blue’s fault?” Keith tried.

“Well… honestly? No, I really wouldn’t go that far,” Marisol said. “Given what you’ve been doing with the alcohol, I’m going to go ahead and say it’s probably the effect of a more powerful being’s involvement. My guess? It’s a god, or being, at least, connected to either revelry, trickery, or chaos. Alcohol implies the first, but getting involved at all implies the latter two. You grew up in Arizona, right?”

Keith nodded.

“Yeah, so… geography-wise, I’d say Coyote makes sense, but that’s a shaky claim to make since, well—”

“Indigenous beings tend to focus on indigenous peoples,” Nina said. “Namely, the ones whose spiritual traditions involve them. Your case is unique enough that a local might have taken interest anyway, but it’s unlikely.”

“Which means we’re probably looking at those who function across borders,” Marisol said. “Which is… a lot of chaos gods and classic tricksters, honestly. Loki might be a good bet, or even Eris.”

“She wouldn’t,” Dionysus said. “This one’s not her style.”

“Fair enough,” Marisol sighed. “With Dio holding back, you’re not going to get much of an idea of _who_ did this to you, but at least you know _what,_ now. I’d say that a lot of yours probably bled over onto Shiro, and through him to the Holts, while mine bled over onto Lance and Hunk here, and then that probably bled over a bit to Pidge to reinforce what yours had already done, though yours might have been what led her getting paired up with them in the Garrison in the first place.”

“That’s a thing that can happen?” Matt asked. “How would you measure that?”

Marisol blinked at him, and then turned to Nina.

“No,” Nina said. “I’m not getting into that explanation right now. It would take _literally hours_ , at minimum.”

“Well, if that’s all, I think I’ll be on my way,” Dionysus sighed, swiping another bottle from the table and taking a long swig from it. “Really, Mari, you normally call me in on things that are a little more fun than _this_.”

“Yeah, well, the next time I’m feeling ready for a rave, I’ll do the usual,” Marisol drawled, pulling the god to his feet.

“What’s the usual?” Pidge asked.

“Nothing your little mortal self needs to—ow!” Dionysus looked down at his arm, where Marisol had pinched him, and then back up at her. “What was that for?”

“You’re being mean,” she said. She turned to Pidge. “The usual is that I walk into a random Denny’s and yell ‘ _Hey asshole, who wants to get fucked up tonight!’_ ”

“Then I walk out of the bathroom or whatever and we leave for a night of wine and revelry,” Dionysus said.

“I’ve only managed to get Nina to come along _once_ ,” Marisol lamented.

“I don’t dance, and I don’t get involved with your deity-infested hive mind parties,” Nina said, voice flat. “I like my brain solidly where it should be, not spread out over dozens of people.”

“Meh, everyone has their tastes,” Marisol said, shrugging.

“Why Denny’s?” Shiro asked.

“It _does_ seem like the kind of place for anyone recovering from the kind of night Dionysus would approve of…” Matt said. “And meme-ish enough for someone as ridiculous as people keep saying… I forgot your name?”

“Marisol,” she said, smiling. “And that’s all true, but not the actual reason.”

“Did you know,” Dionysus asked, with a shit-eating grin on his face, “That the name Dennis is derived from Dionysus?”

Silence reigned until Lance whispered, “You dramatic fucking meme.”

“Oh please, like you’re one to talk,” Dionysus said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve heard your sister’s stories.”

“I’m sure,” Lance said.

“Anyway… bye.” And with that, Dionysus walked behind Marisol, and simply didn’t come out the other side, as though vanishing from sight had led to vanishing entirely.

Keith put his face back in his hands, and screamed a little, though the noise was muffled by his palms. Shiro rubbed a hand up his face, groaning.

“Welcome to my life,” Nina said. “As the person most frequently dragged into Sol’s nonsense—”

“Hey!”

“— _welcome to the fucking party_.” Nina followed it up with a sigh. “Congratulations. The club doesn’t have shirts, but sometimes we get together on Friday nights and play DnD while complaining at length about the so-called adventures.”

“I do like DnD,” Matt said.

“You’ve also got a war to fight,” Pidge reminded him. “No running off home, now.”

“And we do need to find Dad,” Matt sighed, letting his head fall back. “The life of a rebel is fraught with setbacks.”

“Really, now,” Marisol laughed. “And what would you be doing if it weren’t?”

Matt lifted his head to look at her, and said, without preamble, “Well, flirting with a pretty girl, probably.”

“…flattering,” Marisol said. “But maybe try back in a year or two. Twenty-five’s my minimum. Over twenty, I’m willing to wait it out. Under twenty, no chance now or ever, really.”

“What the hell, asshole?” Pidge demanded, poking him in the side. “When did you get smooth?”

“Uh…”

“This is worse than finding out that Lance fucked half our graduating class!” Pidge whined.

Matt choked on thin air. “He what now?”

“What do you mean, ‘worse?’” Lance demanded, holding back his own laughter.

“It’s _weird_ to find out that the dorks in your life are capable of getting laid,” Pidge said. “Also, I _really_ don’t want to think about _either_ of you doing that sort of thing, ugh.”

“Katie,” Matt said, leaning closer. “Are you saying you replaced me as brother figure?”

“The entire team just kind of happened to me,” Pidge said. “I now have more fake siblings than I know what to do with.”

“That’s sad,” Marisol declared. “But you’ll figure out something eventually. I did.”

“Half of your interactions with Ricardo and Roberto involve copious amounts of fire,” Lance pointed out.

“And what did our last run-in with Lotor involve?” Hunk asked.

“…shut up.”

o.o.o.o.o

“So… we’ve got another lead,” Allura said.

“Lotor again?” Shiro asked.

Coran nodded. “We won’t be trying to get to him directly; kidnapping him from his own ship is unlikely to be successful, not when he has the… ah, what was the phrase you humans use?”

“Home field advantage?” Lance suggested.

“Yes, that,” Coran said. “However, we do have a few elements on our side that they aren’t expecting.”

Everyone turned to look at Marisol, Matt, and Nina.

“Well,” Marisol said, with a grin that held sharper teeth than most people would have expected. “I’ve got a few days to kill. Nina?”

“You’re paying me in those Balmera crystals, so I’m in.”

Matt shrugged. “This is literally my job now.”

“Wonderful,” Allura said, sighing. “Kolivan? Walk us through the plan.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part of this chapter is Keith sitting there with his head in his hands, staring at the bottles and confusedly whispering "What the fuck. There's so _many._ " while everyone watches him with mild to moderate concern.
> 
> Plot threads you maybe didn't realize were plot threads that came together here: Keith's magic booze-finding powers, Marisol's ties to Greek deities, Marisol's mentions of "Dio" and blaming her ridiculous life on him.
> 
> Denny's: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/151695319880/demonbloodsausagedog-terpsikeraunos  
> WicDiv's Dionysus: https://ladygeekgirl.files.wordpress.com/2015/07/dionysus-wicdiv.jpg
> 
> I felt like I would be remiss in not mentioning indigenous spiritual figures while writing out that explanation, given the fact that I write Keith as having spent most of his life in Arizona, but I was also wary of treating indigenous beliefs as something I could cherry-pick and play with the way I feel comfortable working with Greek or Norse myth, especially given how many people still have spiritual practices involving these figures and the history behind how those beliefs were treated by the US government. I felt like mentioning the relevant indigenous mythological figure (Coyote) but leaving the conclusion open-ended was the best solution, though I feel like even that might have been going a little too far, and that I maybe shouldn't have mentioned indigenous mythological figures directly at all.
> 
> You can also safely assume it _wasn't_ Coyote here, for a variety of reasons, chief among them being that alcohol brought over by Europeans has wrought so much trouble for indigenous communities that an indigenous figure giving someone alcohol-related powers would be in _incredibly_ poor taste. For people wondering why I didn't feel comfortable including them more solidly, this post explains a lot:  
>  http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/163184811185/an-open-letter-to-tumblr-mythology-fandom-from-a
> 
> I still don't want to outright say "ah yes, it was this deity specifically," but I will say that Loki is the chief suspect.
> 
> (I know I have at least one reader who happens to be indigenous, so... yeah, I did my best here, but please tell me if I should just remove that section entirely and stick to the mythologies I know better and am more comfortable working with.)


	38. Beauty Itself Doth of Itself Persuade the Eyes of Men Without an Orator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert Leverage theme here*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. NOT. LATE.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: someone pretends to be a full-service sex worker in this chapter, and leverages the discomfort of the people around them with this idea to make things work out. There are a few moments of... not quite slut-shaming, but cross-cultural judgement of the profession. Also alcohol, murder, and poison gas.

The plan, for what it was worth, wasn’t actually a _bad_ one. It should have worked. Did work, in fact, for the most part. Not a single thing went wrong until the end, when everything did.

 _“So you’re just going to Jedi Mind Trick your way in?”_ Shiro asked, his voice echoing with a tinny sound from the communicator they’d given Marisol.

She smiled to herself. “Partly. Just that would look suspicious to anyone on the cameras or whatever, though, so I’ll just be using it to back up something that’s a little more Bavarian Fire Drill, y’know?”

 _“A little more_ what? _”_ Allura asked.

“Bavarian Fire Drill! Act like you know what you’re doing and you’re supposed to be there, and chances are no one’s going to question you anyway.” Marisol said. “Everyone up there alright?”

 _“This seems like a bad idea,”_ Coran said.

“Maybe,” Marisol admitted. “But remember what Dio and I said about the general protection blessing?”

 _“…I would_ very much _prefer if we did not rely on something so insubstantial,”_ Kolivan said.

“We’re not,” Nina said, before Marisol could. “We’re relying on magic to prop up something we’re fairly good at already. You said that you trusted us to make our plan while you execute yours. So trust us. Sol and I are used to getting in and out of trouble, and Holt isn’t exactly new to the whole ‘running low-key missions for a rebellion’ thing, so there’s experience on that front too.”

“Seriously, being a succubus is like… a plus twelve for my charisma and bluff scores,” Marisol said.

“I don’t think anyone appreciates the DnD analogies, Sol.”

 _“Mari, could you_ please _just do your thing?”_ Lance asked.

“Well, we’re about to land,” Matt said, catching their attention. “You two sure this is going to work?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Nina said, and Marisol snorted.

“Alright, then.”

They passed through the force field that held in the atmosphere around the massive ship without trouble, but quickly got hailed on a local frequency.

“This is _The ES Schadenfreude,_ ” the Galra on the video said. “You are not authorized to be here. Turn back at once or you will be shot out of the sky.”

Matt brought the ship to a halt. “Well, I don’t know anything about authorization. I’m just the chauffeur.”

“We were not informed of any _authorization requirements_ when the lady was hired,” Nina said, disdain and venom dripping from every word.

“Yeah, can we maybe set down and work this out?” Matt asked. “’Cause like, I was told we have a deadline, and I _really_ don’t want to piss off a prince, ya know? Just make the trip and jet once the chick is done.”

“And what was she hired to do?” the Galra demanded.

“Oh, what do you _think?”_ Nina snapped. “It can’t be that difficult to figure out why a ship with only three people is visiting a prince, can it?”

They couldn’t see if the Galra blinked or not, given the helmet, but he gave off that kind of air.

“Er… of course not,” he said, though he clearly wasn’t catching on the hints they were dropping, which… well, that was that, really.  Maybe Galra just normally didn’t do this sort of thing. “Well, you can land, but we’ll be searching you as soon as you do.”

“Of course,” Nina scoffed, and shut the video off.

There was a moment of silence, and then Shiro said, _“Please don’t tell me you’re going to sleep with him for the mission.”_

“Nah, just claiming I am to get us inside,” Marisol said. “Might sleep with him for reasons _other_ than the mission, if he’s hot enough.”

 _“He’s a tyrant,”_ Allura said, voice flat.

“You’d be surprised at what kind of information people are willing to drop in a post-coital haze,” Marisol said. “Don’t have time for that, though, so you don’t need to worry.”

 _“That’s not what I’m worried about,”_ Shiro whispered, sounding a little exasperated.

“You’d be surprised at how easy it is to get into government facilities and high-society hotels when you play this card,” Marisol said.

 _“I don’t want to know more,”_ Shiro said firmly.

“I kind of do.”

_“Matt!”_

“What? Are you telling me you’re _not_ interested in why she was sneaking into government facilities? Like, what level of _illegal_ were you pulling?” Matt addressed the second question to Marisol directly, where she sat in the second row.

“Not much, actually,” she laughed. “I was usually doing it for a bet.”

“Well, that’s boring,” Matt pouted. “Here I was hoping you were stealing classified documents or switching out all the coffee for decaf or something.”

“I may have pulled a few pranks,” Marisol allowed with a grin.

 _“Matt, we are technically still government workers ourselves,”_ Shiro said, practically begging. _“We_ should not be hearing this.”

 _“You heard about me sneaking into the Garrison using other methods to actually steal classified files, though?”_ Pidge said. _“How is this different?”_

“We’ve landed,” Nina said, cutting everyone off. “Sol?”

“On it,” Marisol said, the joking tone gone from her voice. “You two ready?”

“I don’t exactly have a lot to do at the moment,” Matt reminded her.

“Hm,” Marisol said, and then turned to the door to her row. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slid it open.

A burst of trancing meant all eyes were on her as soon as she stepped out. Fashions varied in space, of course, and standards of attractiveness did even more depending on the species. Nonetheless, she’d picked up enough little hints from her late-night insomnia-fueled discussions with Coran on previous visits to know that she could rely on previous experiences and her own appearance to get through this.

(Granted, she’d expected this to come in useful in a ‘trying to get laid at a bar’ situation, not… this.)

“Hello, boys,” she said with a coy smile as she stepped out. Slit pupils and pointed ears made sure she didn’t look quite human, but there weren’t enough demonic attributes in evidence to connect her to Lance’s skyscraper fire. High heels, a short dress, and a clutch were all she was visibly wearing below the neck, and the low side-pony and earrings completed the ‘high-class escort’ appearance. It wasn’t a hard look to pull off, honestly; she’d done sex worker just by dancing at a burlesque club and stripping for a few years, and she’d been an escort for a few years, though never full-service. If she chose to sleep with the client, it was going to be _her_ choice, not the money’s.

(There were always lines that people didn’t understand, but Marisol was adamant about her own. She knew plenty of people who did full-service sex work, and all the power to them… but that wasn’t her. She’d dance, she’d flirt, she’d be a pretty face at a party, but she wouldn’t even kiss for money.)

“W-who are you?” The Galra at the front tried to demand.

“You can call me Sunflower,” she said, cheeky and cheery in one. “Now, which one of you fine men in uniform is going to tell me how to get where I’m going, hm?”

“Could you wait _five bloody doboshes?_ ” Nina demanded, slipping out of the ship. In a white-and-purple dress suit, dark purple sunglasses, crown-braided white hair, and something white-and-glowing-purple in her ear that resembled a Bluetooth, Nina looked all the kinds of professional that Marisol didn’t.

“And you?” The Galra asked.

“Her manager,” Nina said, ignoring the smile that Marisol flashed around them. “Now, someone’s going to need to take both of us where _she_ needs to go, and then take me to whoever’s going to pay for this.”

“Pay?” The guard asked, voice cracking a little.

Nina shot him a dismissive look. “You think this is free?”

“Well, no, of course not, but all uses of the Empire’s funds must be verified by the financial department,” the guard protested.

“Then take me _there_ , so someone can sign the bloody papers,” Nina said, with the air of a woman who was nearing the end of her patience. “Or would you like me to just go straight to Prince Lotor?”

 _“Bad idea, bad idea,_ bad idea!” Shiro whispered hurriedly.

“No, no, I’ll take you to the financial offices after, ah… Sunflower? Gets where she’s going,” the guard said hurriedly.

“Yo, you know where I can park this thing?” Matt asked, popping his head out the door on his side. “Seriously doubt you want us cluttering up your driveway here. You can search us after I park, I guess.”

“Right, right, we’ll just need to do it after we search the vehicle,” a guard said.

A sharp gasp came over the comms.

“Mind if I move the ship to the parking spot first?” Matt asked. “Idling wastes more energy than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, we really should do it h—”

Marisol flared her trancing again, drawing attention as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger and bit her lip. “Is there a problem?”

“N-not at all?” The soldier sounded confused. “Um. I don’t suppose it would be too much of a problem to move the ship first…”

“Great!” Matt said, hopping back in. “Just tell me where!”

“So…” the guard awkwardly clambered into Nina’s seat. “What, uh, does she actually do?”

Marisol pretended she hadn’t heard the stage whisper.

“C’mon, a girl that hot going to a guy that rich, dressed like that?” Matt laughed. “What do you _think_ she does for a living?”

“…I don’t know?”

“She’s, uh, entertainment, dude,” Matt said, pitching his voice to just the right side of awkward.

Marisol cheerfully continued pretending to be oblivious, while the Galra mostly hid their eavesdropping as well. Even Nina could hear, courtesy of the Bluetooth.

“I still don’t get it,” the guard admitted. Maybe he’d picked the short straw when the guards were coming down, and been told to be the one to stop pretending he knew what was going on so the rest could figure it out. “What is she selling?”

“…sex. She’s selling sex,” Matt said, his voice flat and a little condescending, just enough to make the galra feel a little more awkward and off-balance than they had so far. “She’s being paid to have sex with Lotor. Is this getting through to you or do I have to figure out a way to be even more blunt?”

“…what?”

“Do Galra not have sex workers?”

“We only engage in such activities for procreation. It is not the… _indulgent_ activity for us that it is for lesser species, particularly outside of heats. I have _never_ heard of a Galra hiring a… a…”

“Sex worker,” Matt provided. “It’s as legitimate a job as any other. Granted, most of the ones I’ve met were strippers using their earnings to pay for higher education, not full-service like her, but still. Are you saying that sex doesn’t feel good for you outside of heats? That must suck. No wonder Lo… the Prince wants to experiment.”

“The Prince would never! A _Galra_ would never—”

“Isn’t he only half?”

The silence was telling.

Marisol smiled, small and a little too close to a smirk for anyone to see it as innocent, and gestured for the head guard to begin leading them in. She blithely walked past a handful of gaping faces towards the distant door after no one moved. Putting one hand on her hip and setting up a beat to keep to in her head, she downright _strutted_ across the metal.

“So are you going to show us where we need to go or not?” Nina asked, her tone as sour as all get-out. “Or are will we be finding our way ourselves?”

“I need a guide!” Marisol called back, putting just a little demonic force behind it. Just a bit of trance.

“You heard the lady,” Nina said. “I’m sure _someone’s_ going to be pissed if we keep him waiting.”

“R-right away, ma’am.”

o.o.o.o.o

 _“You know,”_ Pidge mused. _“I never realized how effective it would be to just make people feel awkward.”_

 _“Acting like you know what’s going on and how to handle the situation is helpful_ ,” Lance said. _“Bavarian Fire Drill plus Distracted by the Sexy plus a bit of Jedi Mind Trick? Of_ course _they were going to get in.”_

Matt ignored the conversation in his comm unit as he stood outside the spaceship, hands in his pockets, watching the guards examine the vehicle. It wasn’t a very large pod, but it was big enough to have a trap door, which the Galra unsurprisingly took a look at. There was nothing in the trap door. There was nothing in the boxes, except alcohol (courtesy of Keith) and sex toys (courtesy of Marisol’s memory and the Castle’s fabricator), neither of which were restricted materials, but the latter of which had the Galra staring in confusion until Matt coughed and told them what it was for, at which point they quickly put everything back and continued with their inspection.

They left behind one guard at the end, the inspection having passed cleanly. Matt rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer, walking to stand outside and watch the stars on the side that was hidden from the main guard tower. The guard that had been left moved around to watch him.

Matt looked over at him and then raised the bottle. “Got a problem with me drinking?”

“It looks toxic,” the guard said.

“Nah, that’s just the bottle,” Matt said. “Heineken likes the green; makes them stand out from the rest of the brands.”

The guard grunted and tapped a finger against a button on his belt as a little buzzing noise emanated from it. It was high pitched, so much so that Matt doubted most species could hear it, high enough that even a person just a few years older than him might not have heard it, but he made it out.

(Matt knew the button; over a year in Galra prison meant that he’d learned a lot about the guards, and that one was the one that told control that everything was fine. It was the button for check-ins.)

(It was a very easy button to fool.)

Matt spent the next few minutes finishing off the bottle, and then reached backwards into the ship to grab something a little stronger.

The guard wrinkled his nose as Matt opened the bottle and took a sip.

“That smells foul.”

“Yeah, not everyone’s really ready for vodka,” Matt said. “Took me years to get to this point, really. People kept making fun of me for being a kid before I could learn to drink it without making a face.”

“Then why do you?”

“At this point, I like the burn,” Matt said. “I don’t expect you’d understand; if you think the smell is awful, then I doubt you can handle even a sip.”

“Excuse me?” the guard demanded.

Matt shrugged, languid. “I mean, hey, feel free to try some if you want, but vodka’s not really a _beginner’s_ drink, you know? We should maybe start you off with something a little weaker. I’m sure I’ve got some kids’ drinks back there…”

“You’re baiting me,” the guard realized.

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “You got pretty mad there. And nah, I don’t really have kids’ drinks, but vodka still isn’t really for the faint of heart.”

“Faint of heart,” the guard scoffed.

“What, you wanna try it?” Matt wiggled the bottle. “I’ve got some shot glasses that Sunflower uses sometimes when she’s schmoozing. She may be high-class, but even the kinds of rich guys that hire her have pretty bad taste in drinks sometimes.”

“Shot glasses?”

“Well, you’re not really supposed to drink straight from the bottle, are you?” Matt laughed. There was only an inch missing from the one he’d started on, and even that was just in the neck. Paired with the bottle of beer, it hadn’t done anything to impact his faculties yet, but Matt knew his limits, and he couldn’t push them much farther safely. He had to be careful about this.

“Show me,” the guard ordered, and while Matt bristled on the inside at the idea of _following a Galra guard’s orders, never again, never FUCKING AGAIN_ , he smiled and climbed back into the ship to dig through a box and find a small set of glasses.

“Cheers,” he said, pouring out two shots. “Feel free to take a sniff first, if you want. It reeks.”

The guard made a face, and then went to grab the glass that Matt had tried to take. “For safety reasons, you understand.”

“What, you’re scared I poisoned your glass?” Matt snorted. “Just like the Sicilian…”

“Who?”

“Vizzini. Children’s book character. Don’t worry about it,” Matt said, waving the question off. He raised the glass, waited the moment it took for the guard to check in, and then clinked the shot glasses together. “Cheers.”

“Vrepit sa,” the guard said, just a little sharply, and then they both knocked back their drinks. He came up sputtering and coughing. “Oh, that _burns_.”

“Told you,” Matt said, holding back his laughter. “The burn will fade in a moment.”

“Right,” the guard said, eyeing the bottle in Matt’s hands with ill-disguised disgust.

Matt kept up the small talk, but it didn’t take long.

The guard started swaying on his feet a minute in, blinking too rapidly and tripping over his words.

He fell to his knees after two minutes, fumbling at his belt to call for help while he vomited on the ground. He was too uncoordinated to press the right button, especially since Matt moved to press a foot down on the hand that still had a bit of fine motor control.

He dropped into unconsciousness after three minutes, breathing slow and shallow.

He was dead at four.

Matt looked down at him dispassionately, then moved to press the dead soldier’s finger to the biometric check-in button as it buzzed in. He then climbed back into the ship, grabbing a water pouch and sticking the straw in as he pressed a finger to his communicator. “You’re up, Princess.”

A hidden panel in the ceiling slid open, and Allura dropped out of it in full armor. “That took longer than expected.”

“Quieter than a gunshot, though, and less likely to fail and give him time to call in the attack than anything more physical.” Matt shrugged. “I am not a very strong person, Princess, not to mention the bad knee. I’m not exactly going to strangle a Galra soldier with ease.”

“That is true,” Allura admitted, pulling open the trapdoor and leaning into it with a plasma cutter in hand to carve through the hangar’s metal floor. “We’re sure there is a ventilation shaft directly beneath?”

“You heard Pidge’s instructions as well as I did,” Matt said. “We should be in exactly the right spot.”

Allura nodded, and a few moments later there was a mostly-round hole in the metal below. She lowered herself into it feet first, bending awkwardly to slip into the shaft properly instead of just sitting there.

“Good luck, Princess,” Matt said.

“Thank you, Matt.”

And she was off.

o.o.o.o.o

There was a full escort of eight guards walking Marisol and Nina to Lotor’s rooms, and it didn’t take much to keep the conversation dead. Any time someone tried to engage in small talk, Nina answered so flatly and with such derision that no one _wanted_ to talk to her, and while Marisol answered more pleasantly, it was usually accompanied with a smile and a flare of trancing that confused the person talking to such a degree that they forgot they’d even asked something in the first place. Marisol had had that effect on people before, of course, and without trancing, but she needed to leverage it for all it was worth right now.

Once they’d made it there, in a sparsely populated part of the ship, the Galra in charge spoke again. There were no other soldiers nearby, just a pair of robotic sentries. “I’ll contact the Prince and let him know that you’re here.”

And with that, Marisol flared her trancing to full power, drawing their attention to her and _not. Letting. Go._

(Anything to get this mission done. Anything to get this war finished. Anything to get her little brother _home_ and _safe_.)

“No, you’re not going to do that,” Marisol said.

“N-no, I’m not going to do that.”

“You’re going to go back to your post and pretend you never saw us,” she continued.

“I’m going to go back to my post and pretend I never saw you.”

“You’re all going to do that, by the way,” Marisol said. “And in case anyone _does_ ask where we are, you’re going to tell them that you took us where we needed to go, and contacted the Prince.”

“If anyone asks where you are, we’re going to tell them that we took you where you needed to go, and contacted the Prince.”

“Great! You’re going to leave now,” she told them.

“We’re going to leave now,” they repeated, and then turned and walked off.

Marisol waited until they’d walked off, and then turned to Nina.

 _“I don’t understand_ ,” Kolivan said, voice crackling a little as it came through the comm link. _“What did you do? Why did that work?”_

 _“She tranced them_ ,” Lance said. _“Uh, hypnosis? Low-level mind control? Jedi Mind Trick?”_

“It doesn’t work on everyone, but random mooks are usually a good bet,” Marisol said. “Wouldn’t have been too hard to knock out one of them if they’d been strong-willed enough to resist.”

“We’ve got work to do,” Nina reminded her.

“Yeah,” she sighed.

Nina offered her a commiserating smile, but nonetheless reached up to her collar and pulled four necklaces out from under her blouse.

“Smell,” she said, pressing a finger full of magic against one crystal carved with runes to activate it.

Marisol breathed in deep and nodded when she didn’t sense even the slightest hint of her best friend in the air. “It’s working.”

“Sight,” Nina continued, tapping the next, and disappeared from view entirely. Marisol nodded again.

“And—” her voice snapped out of true existence the next moment, only reaching Marisol through the comm links. “Sound.”

“All working,” Marisol confirmed. “The last one?”

“Perception filter,” Nina said. “It was a bitch to design, since I needed to make sure _you_ could all still sense me despite the whole notice-me-not, repel-everyone effect, but I got it.”

“Good luck,” Marisol said, and turned her face upwards. It took only a moment to find the nearest ventilation shaft.

She pushed her body to turn into smoke and filtered through the bars.

o.o.o.o.o

“Okay, Holt,” Nina muttered, taking a seat in an empty chair in the command center of the ship. She had no idea what she was looking at, but _someone_ knew enough Galra to tell her what to do. “Talk me through it.”

 _“There’s a teardrop-shaped button on the side of your glasses,_ ” Matt said. _“Press that.”_

Nina did just that.

 _“Great, now I can see everything you see, and overlay instructions on top so you can press buttons without being too worried about knowing what you’re looking at,”_ Matt said. There were a few shuffling noises, and then a number of squares and circles and writing in languages Nina didn’t know but recognized as Galra and Altean. English popped up after a moment, and she started typing.

_“Get the USB out. We’re going to need it in a moment.”_

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol’s job here was a little more vague than Matt and Nina’s, at this point. She’d been the ticket in, but now that they _were_ inside, her mission was essentially ‘do recon and cause havoc.’

Which.

Well.

She was good at that.

She whooshed around as smoke for the most part, eavesdropping whenever possible, though she had to solidify a bit for that to work. Whatever technology let them all understand alien languages didn’t work when she was made of smoke, for some reason, which meant that each attempt to listen in was accompanied by a significant amount of worry that someone would hear the creaking metal of the vents. At least she didn’t need to worry about someone hearing her breathing.

A shudder rocked the ship, and she found an empty broom closet to return to full demon form in. She brought a hand up to her earring and pressed it, activating the comm link. Immediately, she was blasted by voices.

_“—draw him out towards the moon and—”_

_“—mmit, I need backup out here! Who’s free and—”_

_“—can’t focus on my aim and you_ know _it isn’t as good as Lance’s, so—”_

_“—new squadron on your seven, Keith, watch out for—”_

_“—mned if that son of a bitch wins this round, get your heads out of your—”_

Marisol turned the comm link off and took a deep, steadying breath. She had to trust that Lance and his friends knew what they were doing. They’d been doing this for over half a year. They knew how to keep themselves from dying.

…maybe she could go weld the hangar doors shut, or just break the mechanism they used to open them. Though Matt was still there…

Fire in the kitchens, then.

o.o.o.o.o

Of course, it all went to shit. Very rarely did a plan actually go off the way it was supposed to. The Galra were already on high alert, so problems ended up surfacing, one right after the other.

Matt missed a guard’s check-in. Allura slipped up and got caught on camera, though she managed to avoid the others. One of the Galra that Marisol had tranced managed to question the magic internally until it broke, at which point he alerted the rest of the ship to the fact that two unknowns were on board. A BLIP-tech scan showed exactly where Nina was, even if her charms had rendered her non-existent to the senses of the Galra.

Lotor came back. He ordered the ship to be filled with a knock-out gas that affected all but a few species.

Galra were unaffected.

Alteans were unaffected.

Humans and concubi were not so lucky.

Matt was out in the ship already, far away from the gas, dodging laser fire in the air and panicking. Allura had found Nina by tracing her comm signal (and thank goodness she’d has the sense to deactivate the charms after hiding herself away, so Allura _could see her)_ , picked her up, and run out to the ship.

Marisol had not had such a good time, and had passed out and solidified on the other end of the massive ship, running out of time.

“Just go,” Nina said, seconds away from complete unconsciousness. “She can take care of herself, but we’re about to be shot down, just _go_.”

 _“Yeah, I’ll be fine,”_ Marisol’s voice came through the comms, slurred and distant. _“Hey, Lance? I’m definitely coming back—”_

 _“You damn well_ better _be,”_ he snarled.

 _“But I’d rather be early than late, so in case I’m missing for the full day tomorrow… Happy Eighteenth Birthday, little bro! Welcome to… adulthoo…_ ”

She trailed off into silence, breathing evening out to something harsh but slow.

“She passed out,” Allura said grimly. “We… we can’t go back for her. Not now that Lotor’s back on board and is no longer ignorant of the fact that we were there.”

 _“She’ll be fine,”_ Lance said, since Nina was on the edge of consciousness, eyelids fluttering and limbs refusing to cooperate where she sat firmly buckled in. _“It’s Marisol. She’s always fine._ ”

(Nobody could figure out if he actually believed that, or if he was just trying to reassure himself.)

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol woke up in chains, arms above her head and entirely behind bars.

“Well, fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favorite part of this chapter is probably Matt murdering the guard. Reading this probably gives you an idea of the kind of tropes I like, and maybe a bit of my Leverage love. Whoops?
> 
> (The only note for this chapter is "Marisol gets captured" and everything else was done a little slapdash, tbh.)
> 
> I was a bit tentative about writing out the ploy they used to get in, because sex work tends to be a sensitive subject? But honestly, I'm in full support of anyone who _chooses_ to go into such a profession, does so safely, and is happy doing what they do. I hope that's reflected here. It's a job that's as legitimate as any other.  
>  (People who are forced or coerced into sex work, or do it due to a lack of other options? They deserve better than that. The number of ethical issues regarding consent in the sex industry is ridiculous and really needs to be addressed in a way that doesn't involve punishing the workers themselves, since they're often victims.)


	39. Look Like the Innocent Flower, But Be the Serpent Under 't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of cat and mouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason this chapter is delayed is that _ethics are an absolute bitch to write_. Also, it's over nine thousand words long, so there's that, too.
> 
>  **WARNINGS** : mind-control as a matter of self-defense or self-preservation, non-consensual blood drinking, three mentions of rape (in the "I would never" sense, mostly), violence, sex as a weapon, and... sex under unclear pretenses? Someone walks knowingly into a trap that involves sex (which they are aware of), assuming they can get out. They do not. The circumstances probably qualify as mild dubcon, but consent is _repeatedly_ addressed in-text and you guys know how sincere I am about that at this point. IDK if I'd say that this chapter gets DARK, but... it has some previously-addressed themes that I'd definitely say are dark.  
>  Essentially:  
> A: Let's have sex  
> B: This is a trap, isn't it?  
> A: Maybe.  
> B: ...best way to deal with a trap is to trigger it. Let's do this.  
> B: *falls for the trap*

“Good morning.”

Marisol squinted into the light vaguely making out a purple figure with white hair. As the seconds passed and her head cleared, so did her vision. In the end…

“Huh. They told me you were pretty, but I didn’t realize _how_ pretty,” Marisol said. “That said, I really feel like the chains and handcuffs ought to wait for at least the second date, don’t you?”

She shook her hands where they were cuffed, rattling the chain, and raised an eyebrow.

“You told my soldiers that you were here as… a purveyor of sexual activities?”

“…full-service sex worker,” she said. “Which I’m not, actually. I’ve done sex work, but I’m not full-service. I just dance.”

Lotor made a face. “You’ve already caused damage to my reputation just by making such claims. Even with the revelation that it was a cover and you were actually here to cause damage to the ship during my altercation with Voltron, rumors are spreading.”

“Are you saying you _don’t_ like sex, then?” Marisol asked.

“I am saying that, as Prince of an entire Empire, I have no need to _hire_ someone for such activities,” he said. “People of all species are more than willing to offer a night or two just for…”

“Bragging rights?” Marisol asked. “And wouldn’t that be all species _but_ Galra?”

Lotor’s face shuttered. “I believe I’ll be making that call now.”

“Ominous,” she sighed. “You’re no fun, darling.”

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowed. “Darling?”

“What? Not a fan?”

“You will address me by my title or not at all,” Lotor said, turning back to the screen and pressing a few buttons with a frown.

“Boring,” Marisol accused, readjusting herself a little. She could barely feel any magic in the cuffs, but…

Closing her eyes, she tested just how thorough they were, and grinned as the answer became clear: not thorough enough.

o.o.o.o.o 

The alarm rang in just a few hours after they made it back to the ship.

“Lotor’s calling us!” Allura announced, causing everyone on the ship to sprint over to the control room.

(Well, almost everyone. Matt still had trouble running, no matter how advanced alien medical care was. That bad knee hadn’t gotten attention in time after being broken, and that meant it was probably never going to be fully functional again. He could get the joint replaced, maybe, even parts of the muscles and tendons and so on, but that was… a big decision in some ways, and one that he hadn’t had much time to think over since getting to the Castle. Surgery could wait for a quieter stretch.)

Allura eyed them all, made sure everyone looked vaguely presentable (because looking laughably incompetent in the eyes of the enemy was rarely a good thing, unless one was attempting a Wounded Gazelle gambit, or at least that was what Hunk had called it that one time), and then turned and answered the call.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called,” Lotor said, sounding almost disinterested.

“Pretty sure we’ve got a good idea of it,” Shiro said. “Let me guess, you’ve captured our friend and now want Voltron in exchange.”

“Such a lack of imagination,” Lotor sighed. “But yes. Voltron… and the Princess.”

“Unacceptable!” Coran immediately said. His eyes flickered to Lance after a moment, realizing just how the instinctive reaction might read, but Lance closed his eyes and shook his head, keeping his expression neutral. As much as he worried about Marisol, Voltron and Allura were key to saving the universe. He couldn’t put his sister’s life ahead of trillions.

And honestly… there was a niggling feeling that he didn’t _need_ to worry, not right now.

“And leave your little friend behind?” Lotor asked, stepping back and changing the angle of the camera to display the entire room.

It was a study, or at least an office. Cushy, with more color and wood and pale lighting than the dim purple of the rest of the Galra ships.

(Kolivan had once indicated that those lights were calibrated to mimic the way light had once appeared on the Galra homeworld, now in ruins, and so were designed to provide the best possible visibility for Galra eyes. It was normal for them. Lotor, Lance suspected, had a little too much Altean in him to be constantly comfortable in such darkness. Too bad Kolivan wasn’t in the room to confirm.)

But for all that there were bookshelves and cushy armchairs and a desk that might have been mahogany if there were any chance of Earth wood being used, but was probably from Olkarion instead, the main feature of the room was clearly the cell that was set into the wall, with thick metal bars running down vertically to keep whoever was inside _inside_ , assuming that they managed to break out of the thick manacles chained to the wall.

That person, currently, was Marisol.

She looked bored.

“…kinky,” Lance said after a moment, when he saw that everyone else except Nina looked worried.

“Excuse me?” Lotor demanded, taken aback.

“Maybe save the whips and chains for the second date,” Lance suggested. “Or the first. Or maybe see if she’s interested at all?”

“See, that’s what I said,” Marisol tossed in. “Besides, bondage is the kind of thing that should really be discussed in detail by both participants first. He didn’t even ask about a safe word!”

“Fucking rude,” Lance agreed.

“Are either of you taking this seriously?” Shiro asked, looking frustrated and worried in turn.

“No,” Lance said, the relief in his stomach blooming further. Marisol had played along in a way that indicated she wasn’t worried either, which meant he could relax.

“Not really,” Marisol admitted.

“Same,” Nina sighed, examining her nails.

“Your friend is trapped aboard my ship, and you _aren’t worried?”_ Lotor laughed at that. “How delusional must you be?”

“Did you use up all the gas you set on us?” Nina asked, voice projecting the idea that she was bored to tears.

“Hardly,” Lotor scoffed.

Marisol rolled her eyes.

“I mean, now that I know it’s _there_ , it wouldn’t be that hard to circumvent,” Nina said. “A Jameson matrix on the throat with a Nishikawa circle and a Virtanen rune set should do the trick easily.”

Marisol nodded slowly as Lotor eyed Nina.

“Are you playing _games_ with me?” Lotor asked softly. “Your friend sits there, at my mercy, and you play _games?”_

Lance giggled and stepped forward. “Oh man. Oh… Lotor, buddy, pal, friend, amigo, _baby_. You gotta understand something: that’s not my friend. That’s my _older sister_.”

Lotor frowned. “Does that not mean you should be more worried?”

“Half-sister, actually,” Lance said, grinning wide. “Same mom, different dads. Look me in the eyes and tell me, Lotor: do you remember what happened last time we fought face to face?”

Lotor’s nose scrunched up, and his lip curled into a sneer. “Unfortunately. That was rather a mess to clean up.”

“Good,” Lance said. “Remember what I told you about myself? About what I am?”

“You are _not_ ok-vari,” Lotor said flatly.

“You believed it then.”

“A momentary weakness,” Lotor said.

“Fine, fine, don’t believe me,” Lance said, putting his hands up. “But listen, buddy… that doesn’t change the fact that I made it _pretty damn obvious_ that I’m something other than human. I’m an incubus. All those powers I have? From my mother’s side of the family. Everything I did with the fire, with my voice, with my ability to survive, with my mind games… that’s all from Mamá.”

Behind Lotor, who hadn’t yet moved, Marisol shifted her hands to smoke and got out of the manacles. Thankfully, no one on Team Voltron acknowledged that enough for Lotor to notice, not even when Marisol turned fully to smoke and reappeared on the outside of the bars.

Lance pulled off his jacket and shifted to full demon form, leaning closer to the camera with a wide smile that showed off his fangs. “Here’s a secret: I’m half-human, and I have all the limitations that come with that. There are things my mother can do that I can’t even _dream_ of, because I’m half-human, not full concubus.”

Marisol tiptoed over to Lotor’s chair, just a few feet behind him, and lowered herself into it as quietly as she could. She kept wide, suspenseful eyes on Lotor the entire time, but no sound came from the chair. She bit her lip as she looked around for something to add to the image.

“Here’s another secret,” Lance said.

Marisol put her feet up on the desk, crossing her ankles, still completely silent and a little tense as a result.

“My sister’s not half-human.”

Marisol franticly scanned the table and picked up a heavy-looking book, made of real paper and what looked like leather, and opened it up on her lap, then settled back in the most obnoxiously languid and relaxed pose she could. Then she rethought that, and leaned forward beyond the points of most humans’ flexibility to grab a pen. She put it in her mouth as she leaned back again, and frowned down at the open book as though she were genuinely trying to figure out what it said.

(Lance expected she was keeping herself to just this side of smoke form, ready to switch at a moment’s notice if someone attacked.)

“So everything I can do with my incubus powers?” Lance laughed. “She can do _better_.”

Lotor frowned at him, and then visibly jumped in shock as Marisol spoke up.

“You know, I’d forgotten how annoying it is to try reading something only to realize you have _no fucking clue_ how to even read the alphabet, let alone the language.”

Lotor whirled around, drawing his sword. Marisol looked up from the book, blinking innocently. “Got a translator?”

“ _How?”_ Lotor hissed.

“How… would you have a translator?” Marisol asked, tilting her head and blinking at him. “I don’t know, I assumed you pro—”

“How did you get out of the cell?!”

Marisol bit her lip and smiled. “Oh, darling, don’t worry yourself about that. There isn’t a lot that can hold me unless it’s been _designed_ with me and mine in mind.”

“Hell yeah, bitch,” Lance called out.

“Don’t call me bitch, little bro.”

“Sorry.”

“Enough,” Lotor snarled, and whirled around to stab his sword straight through Marisol’s abdomen.

Lance had been right: she _was_ just this side of smoke.

Lotor stared down at the white smoke that his sword was currently stabbed through, apparently having trouble understanding just what had happened.

“Aiming for debilitating instead of deadly?” Marisol’s voice echoed strangely about the room as she just barely solidified parts of herself enough to speak, an auditory effect clear even through the video’s microphones. Lotor turned around the room, apparently not caring if Team Voltron saw his growing tension as he backed away towards the wall. “So you could keep using me as a hostage? Good plan, but…”

She solidified completely right behind him, just before he reached the wall, and let him bump into her. Lance felt like laughing as she spoke directly into Lotor’s ear. “Unfortunately for you, I’m immortal. You may be gorgeous, darling, but I’m better, and let’s face it: you lost your chance at controlling me as soon as you decided to let me wake up. And—”

Lotor whirled to slice through her, but she dispersed into smoke again, and then whooshed up into the ventilation system.

“I’m feeling a mite bit peckish!” She called down, voice warped by her form and the hollow metal shaft.

Lance laughed again, catching Lotor’s attention.

“What?” Lotor spat.

“See, this is what I was trying to say, dude,” Lance said. “My sister’s not a huge fan of violence unless it’s warranted, but this is a war, so it _is_ , and right now you’ve put her in a situation where she can rationalize even a murder as self-defense. So I guess what I’m trying to say is something I’ve kind of said to you before…”

“She’s not trapped in there with you. You’re trapped in there with _her._ ”

Lotor stared at him.

“Have fun dodging the righteous anger of a pissed off, full-blooded ok-vari!” Lance said, and then Lotor cut the call.

Silence reigned for a few long moments.

“Someone’s going to need to monitor for an incoming signal from the ship,” Nina said.

“She’ll be fine?” Allura asked.

“For now,” Lance said. “She can’t survive there indefinitely.”

“She’s going to reach her safe limits soon,” Nina muttered.

“What?” Allura asked.

“Sex,” Nina said. “She needs to feed at some point, and I can’t think of a more hostile situation to be trapped in at the moment. That ship is not a safe place to engage in feeding unless she trances someone, which she would _never_.”

“For blood, she might,” Lance pointed out. “Not sex, though. Never trance for sex.”

“Because that would be rape?” Matt asked.

“Obviously,” Lance snapped.

“Sorry, just… clarifying.” Matt darted a look toward Shiro, which was answered with a silent shake of the head that said ‘I’ll explain later.’ Lance pretended he hadn’t noticed.

“It doesn’t help that her chances of seducing someone are minimal, given that full-blooded Galra don’t enjoy sex outside of heats,” Lance said.

“Shit,” Nina swore. “That’s… not good.”

“Right,” Allura said, clapping her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “For the time being, we will operate under the assumption that Marisol will remain at large within _The ES Schadenfreude,_ and will manage to contact us in time for us to safely perform an extraction. While Lotor is… _craftier_ than Zarkon was, and is a more dangerous opponent in terms of war-wide strategy, he is less of a danger in direct combat, and we do not have the same problem to fear regarding an enemy taking control of the Black Lion, or otherwise influencing her.”

“Them,” Shiro said, and then shrugged when Allura sent him a questioning glance. “Black doesn’t like the concept of gender.”

“Very well. Regardless, Lotor is less of a danger in direct combat, and I think it is fairly reasonable to assume that he did not plan for Marisol and her abilities. He likely doesn’t know the extent of her abilities either, unless he was faking, so overall… it should be safe for us to perform an extraction.” Allura bit her lip and considered that. “Much less risky than it was when I was captured, at any rate. Pidge? Coran? Do you believe you could trace the comm link she was wearing as earrings?”

“Maybe,” Pidge said, frowning. “Lotor wormholed out pretty quick, though. They might be too far away for us to do anything.”

“I can try to trace her blood,” Nina said. “If I use the tracking seal I gave you so we could find you from Earth, I can… I guess the best way to explain it would be to say that I can reverse-trace the signal?”

“It’ll get us going in the right direction,” Pidge said. “Hell, if you can just _give_ us a direction, we can try to triangulate.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nina said. “I’m not used to working with these kinds of distances.”

“Is it possible that she’ll contact us?” Keith asked.

“I’d say there’s a pretty good chance, yeah.” Lance rubbed at the back of his neck. “She might be able to trance people in communications or something.”

“Jedi Mind Trick for the win,” Hunk said, sounding tired.

“Everyone who isn’t involved in the tracking, go get some rest,” Allura ordered. “We’re all tired from the recent mission, and we’re going to want to be as fresh as possible if we want to fight Lotor again.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Hunk said. “Maybe _he’ll_ be too tired to fight _us_.”

“With our luck?” Keith asked. “…it’s as likely as him developing a new superpower, I guess.”

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol was not a very good guest when she didn’t want to be.

Earlier, she’d been keeping a low profile. She still was, kind of, but now she didn’t mind leaving her fingerprints all over the place. If they noticed that five rooms were on fire, it was no skin off her back so long as she was a dozen hallways away wreaking a different kind of havoc by the time they did. That said…

“C’mon, c’mon…” She whispered, digging through the supply closet and talking to both herself and the inanimate objects around her. “Trabaja conmigo aquí…”

The objects didn’t respond, which was about what she’d expected. On rare occasions in the past, something _did_ respond, but that tended to be in the kinds of heavily magical places that carried ancient curses, and she’d been told by many reputable sources that it was best to avoid those. She didn’t always listen, granted, but a lack of speaking furniture was usually a good thing, especially outside of France.

“ _Yes!_ ” She cheered a little when she found the pen, and tested it out on her hand. Not perfect, unfortunately, but if she grabbed a pad of paper, which should have been in the same box of office su… yes, okay, a memo pad, then she could reset the pen every time it started running into trouble. She’d much prefer a brush pen, or something _meant_ for skin, like eyeliner, but she’d work with what she had.

She’d also need a mirror, which… well. Bathrooms?

Marisol wasn’t very good at visual illusory magics. Auditory illusions, sure. Trancing, sure. Fire and various combat styles, sure. Odd branches of magic that she shouldn’t have necessarily known, sure. Even the odd bit of necromancy was pretty easy for her.

But visual illusions were a bitch and a half to do.

Marisol frowned down at the paper and pen, considering. She _could_ exit into the hallway, slip some invisibility around her and hope it held, and see if she could maybe do some kind of notice-me-not effect with pure magic instead of a ward of some sort. She _could_ even try to etch the one she half-remembered onto her arm or something. She _could_ trance a soldier to tell her where the nearest mirror was.

Or… she could stuff the paper and pen down the front of her dress and return to the vents, hoping that Lotor didn’t turn the gas on again.

…now was probably a good time to stop breathing in self-defense.

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol leaned in towards the mirror, cursing mentally as she tried to finish up the seal matrix on her throat. Nina had given her the instructions, sure, but her tools were kind of shitty. Still, she could do this. The elements of the seal, once she sketched out what she thought she’d be working with on the memo pad, were simple enough for her to do it without _too_ much trouble.

She was just putting on the last few runes when the door to the bathroom opened. She paused and met the eyes of the Galra in the mirror.

“Hold please,” she said, using up the last of her air and a tiny bit of energy to make the soldier actually pause. He didn’t move, and she finished up the last rune. She smirked as she saw his eyes widen when she pushed magic into the seal, making it glow as it activated. With a deep breath, she turned and gave him a dazzling smile. “Hey, soldier.”

He brought his rifle up and shot at her.

“Oh no,” she whispered, letting it pass through her with a wisp of smoke and rushing forward to wrap her hand around his throat and slam him against the wall. “That’s quite enough of that.”

She tilted her head and stared him down, weighing her options. Seeing if someone was telling the truth wasn’t _too_ hard…

“I’m going to ask you a question, and you are going to answer truthfully,” she said calmly. “Are you completely loyal to Lotor, Zarkon, Haggar, or the Galra Empire?”

“Yes,” the Galra hissed out.

“And you’d kill me without a second thought…” Marisol mused, and then sighed. She hadn’t wanted to do this, but the fact that he’d _shot her_ the second she turned around and stopped trancing meant that she could… well, no. She couldn’t really claim to be a victim. Ugh. She hated this situation. “Sorry, buddy, but I do need a meal, and while I prefer not to kill…”

His eyes widened.

“ _Sleep,”_ she hissed out, a fully-powered trance order. His body went slack a moment later, and she lowered him carefully to the ground. With a little maneuvering, she got the armor off of his upper body, and frowned as she looked at his neck. Furred, but not by too much. It would be irritating to drink around, but she could do it.

Marisol did hesitate before she leaned down to sink her teeth into his neck and drink, because this was… well, it wasn’t ethically sound, in the slightest. There were a _lot_ of problems with the situation, but she was in enemy territory, and the soldier was an enemy as well. She didn’t know when backup was going to arrive, and while her chances of getting laid were _hella fucking low_ here, she could at least drink some blood. She’d bend the rules for blood.

She wouldn’t bend the rules for sex, though. Consent on that front was… she couldn’t.

She had one chance at getting laid without leaving the ship, and that was seducing the only half-Galra currently on board: Lotor.

Well.

She sank her fangs into the soldier’s neck and thought it over a little.

(Coran had been right. Space would starve her in the long-term unless she was in some very specific situations first.)

Lotor hadn’t been lying about never having hired a sex worker before. He _had_ been lying about people being more than happy to spend a night with him; Marisol guessed that the whole ‘tyrant’ thing left most non-Galra uninterested, and that most Galra wouldn’t be interested due to his status, or maybe because they only slept with people they trusted on a personal level during heats, and nobody was close enough emotionally to Lotor for that… as far as she knew.

Hm.

She’d already known all this early enough that she’d done her best to get a read on his sexual history with magic during the call to Voltron. He wasn’t a virgin, but he didn’t have much experience either, especially not for a man that had recently crossed his second century. He’d never engaged in anything non-consensual, which was good; it meant she wasn’t going to feel ethically conflicted on _that_ front, at least. He had plenty of other sins under his belt, mostly regarding the deaths of innocents, but this one thing, he was clean of.

Fine. Long-term plan was to seduce Lotor, which she could do, probably. She figured he wasn’t actually as super-used to being flirted with as he’d implied, which hopefully meant he’d be more flustered than annoyed if she came onto him.

At least he was easy on the eyes. And… and… oh dear.

It would be underhanded. It would be morally dubious. It would be using her own body as a weapon in ways she normally despised.

But… it was clever. It was very, very clever. She could just—

The door opened, and Marisol looked up from the soldier’s neck to see the one in the doorway.

She knew how she looked. Mostly-human, and in skimpy clothing, but crouched over the unmoving body of a Galra soldier, her fangs still dripping red, red blood. She may have kept her mouth open on purpose just to emphasize the vampire in her.

The Galra in the doorway stared at her in horror.

She closed her mouth just enough to grin wide with all her bloody, bloody teeth on display, and stood up.

“Did he tell you what I am?” She asked, stepping over the body at her feet and smoothing out her dress.

“What?” The soldier asked, voice quavering.

“Your prince. Did he tell you _what I am?”_ Marisol asked, her voice as pleasant as she could make it.

“A friend of Voltron.”

“Species, I meant,” Marisol said, and pouted, like she was very, very disappointed that he hadn’t.

“…we assumed you were as the rest of Voltron,” the soldier said, seeming to regain his footing and raising his blaster to face her. He sneered. “Human, just like the Champion.”

Marisol laughed. “Well, my little brother _is_ on Voltron’s team. However, here’s your mistake: assuming that all of Voltron is human.”

“So? What are you going to say you are?” The soldier demanded.

“Me? I’m a succubus,” she said, smiling wide. Her fangs were already out, but her claws followed, and her eyes, and her ears, and her horns, and her tail, until finally, her wings unfurled from her back and spread out as far as the small bathroom would allow. “I’m a vampire subspecies, technically, but what you really need to know is that I’m a child of hell.”

“A what?”

“I’m a demon,” she said, pressing her magic upwards until the lights started flickering. “You can’t kill me, because I was _born_ undead.”

The soldier shot her, and the blast swept through her abdomen like… well, like her body was nothing more than smoke. She was keeping herself on that edge as much as she could.

“Ok-vari, did you call us?” She asked, and leaned forwards until her face was just inches from the soldiers, if a fair bit lower due to his height. “You really should have wondered about the consequences of your actions as an army _millennia_ ago.”

“Impossible,” the soldier breathed.

“Is it?” Marisol asked. “I’m here, aren’t I? I live as I die. My heart and lungs don’t need to work unless I tell them to. You could cut off my head and I’d only laugh. I don’t age, and I can visit hell whenever I damn well feel like it. What is that, if not a demon?”

The soldier didn’t answer.

“Run and tell your friends, darling,” she said, and burst into smoke once more, whooshing off down the hallway and letting her ghostly laugh bounce off the halls as she went.

o.o.o.o.o

“You know, this much stressing out can _not_ be good for your health.”

Marisol didn’t immediately look up from her nails when Lotor spun around and put the tip of his sword to her throat.

“What are you doing here?”

She looked up at him, keeping her expression condescending, and raised one eyebrow. “Granted, my medical degree is for my home planet’s sapient species, not Galra/Altean hybrids, so… who knows? Maybe the stress actually _is_ good for you.”

“What do you _want?”_

“Uh, for this war to end with you quietly surrendering and agreeing to dismantle your dad’s empire so my little brother can stay alive and come home again?” Marisol pretended to think it over. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good to me.”

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to accommodate something like that,” Lotor said, his voice as dry as the desert. “However, in the short term… _why are you here?”_

“What, I can’t drop in to see a pretty face?” Marisol teased, stepping forward and letting the sword pass through her neck as she approached Lotor. “Let’s face it, your soldiers aren’t much to look at by my standards. Or tastes, rather; I’m not exactly a fan of the fur. You, on the other hand, are _very_ easy on the eyes, even with all the purple.”

He shifted uneasily, pulling his sword back after it became clear that it wasn’t doing anything to her. “Looking at me can’t be your only goal.”

“Nah, it’s not. But you know what compliments lead t—AGH!”

Marisol bent over at the waist, clutching at her stomach. It wasn’t the most painful thing she’d ever experienced, not by a long shot, but the attack had stung even with her on the edge of smoke form.

Lotor leapt back, lightning still sparking from the hand he’d shoved through her.

“You clever son of a bitch,” Marisol spat, standing straight again.

“Well, that ‘bitch,’ whatever the word means, was the one that taught me this trick, so I’m not going to take that to heart.” Lotor flicked his wrist, and held the sword out to point directly at Marisol, lightning now arcing up and down the blade. “Care to try that again?”

“Hm… I’ve got better things to do,” she said.

Marisol left the same way she’d come in: smoke.

o.o.o.o.o

Allura’s head jerked up as the screen alerted her to a call, and shared a look with Coran before she authorized the call to come through. It was coming from Lotor’s ship, but…

“Marisol,” she sighed.

The woman on the screen grinned and waved. “Hey, Princess.”

“How did you get a call through?”

“Trancing,” Marisol said, making a face. “I’m not a big fan, but… well, all’s fair in love and war, right? And this is absolutely a war, so… I’ll do what I gotta do.”

“You’re alright?”

“Making do. I might have drained a guy of his blood, but… well, he’s alive.” Marisol winced. “Sorry, but I don’t really… do the whole killing thing. Fighting, sure. Incapacitation, sure. Killing…”

“It’s a war.”

“I can’t,” Marisol said. “But I have an idea that might get Lotor out of the picture for a bit. I won’t say what it is yet, because it’s not… super well thought-out yet, and I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. But if it works, you’ll know.”

“Stay safe,” Allura said. “We’ll try to track you, but…”

“I’m not your biggest priority, and the only reason you can rationalize it away is that Lotor’s here and you need to attack him anyway?” Marisol guessed, and grinned when Allura grimaced. “No need to worry about finding me, though.”

“What?”

“You!” Marisol called to someone off-camera. “Get over here!”

A Galra soldier stepped into view, oddly stiff, and came to a stop next to Marisol.

“You’re going to send the Princess our current coordinates,” Marisol said. “And then keep her updated if the ship moves elsewhere.”

“I…”

“You…?”

“Where is your identification?” the Galra managed to ask.

“You don’t need to see my identification,” Marisol said smoothly.

“I don’t need to see your identification.”

Allura felt something curdle in her gut, a kind of horror and dissatisfaction. Marisol met her eyes even as the coordinates came through.

“It’s a war, right?” Marisol said. “You’re willing to kill, I’m not. You’re horrified by trancing, and I’m… well, I am too, but I’m willing to do it to keep myself alive anyway.”

Allura swallowed. “Right.”

“I promise I’ll stop when I’m not behind enemy lines anymore,” Marisol said. “I’m not exactly happy about trancing, you know. It’s a fucked up thing to do in any circumstance, but… well. War. It’s a thing that’s happening.”

“We’ll do our best to get there soon,” Allura said. “How long can you hold out, again?”

“If we’re going with ‘how long can I run around wreaking havoc before I either exhaust myself or get caught again…’ A few hours, maybe?” Marisol said, and then her head snapped to the side. “Someone’s coming. Gotta go.”

The video snapped off.

Allura bit her lip, and then turned to Coran. “Do you remember how long an hour is?”

“…no, I’m afraid not.”

o.o.o.o.o

“What is that racket?”

Marisol grinned to herself as Lotor’s voice rang out below, still projecting the irritating strains of Yakety Sax as far as her magic would allow. She was reclining on a rafter in the hangars, hundreds of feet off the ground and far away from the soldiers, and mostly hidden from sight just by virtue of how far away she was. She did peek over the edge though, just to get a look at the way the Galra were milling about in desperate attempts to make it _stop_.

She’d been playing the song on repeat for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Even she was getting bored of it at this point.

And then the lightning sped past her, forcing her to dodge with a startled squawk. She threw herself from the beam she was on, wings spreading to full length to keep her in the air. She flapped a few times, circling and dodging, and then decided that it was time to maybe play some more mind games.

She closed her wings and plummeted to the floor, releasing a massive burst of fire when she hit. She rose from her crouch, a touch of magic healing the damage her legs had taken from the impact, and put a hand on her hip. Nothing was close enough to start burning, but the smell of smoke and brimstone was there anyway.

“Ready to play?” She asked.

(Yakety Sax did not stop playing.)

“You are _not_ ok-vari,” Lotor hissed.

“Denial!” Marisol sing-songed.

Lotor leveled his sword at her, but Marisol was already moving, and sped out a nearby doorway.

She was already playing the slapstick chase music. Might as well do as the music said.

(She got bored and hid in the kitchens she’d destroyed earlier after half an hour.)

o.o.o.o.o

The annoying part, Marisol decided, was that the Galra didn’t enjoy sex outside of heats, and for her purposes, this was a problem. They might find something aesthetically pleasing, but any attempt to play off of ‘Distracted by the Sexy’ was going to run into problems when no one was going to _be_ distracted by that alone. She was hot, gorgeous, sensual, whatever, and all experiences, both her own and Lance’s, indicated that species wasn’t a barrier to finding someone sexually attractive, even in space… but none of that mattered to a species that only rarely experienced sexual feelings.

So any attempts to keep them all distracted was going to rely on aesthetics or trancing, mostly, which was cheating. Or… well, she could try just aesthetics, and turn to smoke every time they shot. They’d realize it wasn’t working and quit eventually, right?

_“Underneath the city lights…”_

She let the music pour out magically, slipping out of a vent and down onto a largely unoccupied long table in the middle of the room.

She pulsed out the trancing to catch everyone’s attention, then dropped it and started dancing. Even if she wasn’t attractive to them, she was good enough at what she did to keep attention on her… even if she had to avoid the en masse shooting for the first thirty or forty seconds first. It petered out after a while, and then kept starting up again every time it was obvious that she was coalescing to human form again.

_“Hit it up, get it up, won’t let you rest…”_

It… took a while for them to give it up and just watch her. Someone may have run off to call Lotor, but most of them just stayed where they were, guns up and trained on her, shooting every so often as if she’d fall prey to it the second she wasn’t paying attention. It was annoying, but at least it didn’t take the entire song for them to stop.

Marisol knew it didn’t look as good without the stage she was used to, or without other girls to work with, because a dance always looked better when it was coordinated with others… but it was enough.

She wished she had a pole, though.

The song ended with her striking a pose and holding it, barely breathing, and the eyes of every soldier in the room on her. She’d caught them during lunch, a meager affair since she’d destroyed their kitchens, and a number of Galra had stopped just inside the door as they’d walked in on the… show. They shot almost immediately after entering, every time, but eventually realized exactly why nobody else was bothering to do so anymore.

_“It’s a cold and crazy world, that’s raging outside…”_

She kept it up for longer than she expected, because… nobody tried anything new. They either shot, or stayed where they were, and the soldiers were apparently lacking in new ideas, save for the one guy that tried to bodyslam her, which… well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

She kept cycling through songs, going to ‘Cola Song’ (a fun one, really), and Welcome to Wonderland’ (from the musical), and even ‘Cell Block Tango,’ since she’d drifted over into theater anyway.

She’d just started in on the Pentatonix mashup of ‘Hey Momma’ and ‘Hit the Road, Jack’ when Lotor burst through the doors.

He aimed a blast of lightning through his sword and at her, but she dropped into a front split to dodge, and pushed as much of her remaining magic as she could risk using into trancing Lotor for a few moments. When her head snapped up, she could see him standing there and just… watching.

Good.

She mouthed along to the words, moving down along the table as she danced, getting closer and closer to Lotor, and trying to decide on how she wanted to play this.

Right. Okay. She was coming up on the mostly-beatboxing section of the song, and right after that was the part where it sounded like an entire crowd was singing and clapping, and if she twisted her magic just right, she could maybe… Yeah. Yeah, that would work.

Then again, ethics. She could do this, but _ethics_. It would be gross and violate bodily autonomy, and as much as she wanted to freak Lotor out, and as much as she hated what this army stood for, she couldn’t make herself do it. She couldn't make herself force the Galra around her to join in and sing-slash-clap along.

…still, at least Lotor wasn’t attacking at the moment.

“ _Hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more! Hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no more…”_

Lotor seemed to snap out of it at that, after a few moments where outrage and fear had grown on his face, pulling out a blaster and shooting at Marisol.

She was unhurt, obviously. Turning to smoke had let her avoid being hurt by just about everything short of that lightning attack that Lotor spammed whenever he had the time to think about it. Marisol dropped the trancing, biting back a relieved sigh as her concentration and magic was no longer under that strain, just focused in on continuing to mentally broadcast music as she reconstituted herself behind Lotor.

“And here I was, just trying to flirt,” Marisol sighed into his ear, and skipped back with a cackle as he tried to hit her again. “Aw, c’mon! That wasn’t so bad!”

“You mind-controlled my soldiers,” Lotor said.

“Yeah, well, only a handful of them at crucial moments.” Marisol said, putting her hands up and stepping back. “Didn’t want them shooting at me when I was _actually_ trying to get something done, unlike just now with the dancing.”

“Despicable,” Lotor hissed.

“Still better than the genocides that you and your family have wrought,” Marisol said, well-aware of the ugly smile on her face. “Or are you going to say that a few minutes of me getting some help in getting _out_ of this giant metal cage that didn’t leave any long-lasting damage other than some psychological understanding of _what it means to be helpless_ is somehow worse than the deaths of trillions?”

“Mind control,” Lotor said, “Is a tool of my mother’s, not mine, and certainly not of you self-proclaimed _heroes_.”

“I’m not a hero,” Marisol said flatly. “I was a distraction, darling, not a soldier. I’m not even supposed to be here. But hey, if you’re admitting that you’re the villain, then that’s fine by me. Just so long as you accept the fact that you’re the bad guy. Pretty or not, you’re kind of evil.”

“Says the woman who took over my soldiers’ minds,” Lotor said. “And mine.”

“All I did to you was keep you from shooting,” Marisol said. “I’d like to point that out. I was keeping you from trying to kill me.”

“Mind-control.”

“Self-preservation behind enemy lines.”

“Something which would not have been necessary if you hadn’t shown up in the room in the first place,” Lotor pointed out. “If you’d simply continued to hide…”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to get your attention, would I have?” Marisol asked. She smiled and propped her hand on one hip, cocking it. “And let’s face it, I _love_ attention.”

Lotor narrowed his eyes, pulling his sword and levelling it at her once more.

Marisol grinned and focused on the music in her mind. Cowboy Bebop opening? Cowboy Bebop opening. Great chase music. Maybe she’d stick to jazz for a bit.

o.o.o.o.o

She found herself in the hangars again, filled with Galra that were aiming their blasters at her but not shooting. Something told her they’d realized by now that shooting wasn’t going to do much good. Maybe the many, many times she’d turned into smoke so far had been something of a hint.

“Any of you ever heard of Alice in Wonderland?” She asked, grinning and turning on the spot. “Guess not. Probably not a lot of room for Victorian pop humor out here in space, right?”

She tapped her heel on the ground, and started humming. “Guess that means you don’t know what a Mad Hatter is, either. Granted, that term originated due to the properties of mercury in hat dyes…”

Brass and drums started up, her hand coming up. She actually sang along this time, well aware of the many, many yellow eyes on her.

_“Well, hello there, it’s me, with how it’s gonna be, settle down, and listen up good. The old Hatter is gone, but the hat must go on, worn by me, is that understood? So shut up, and toe the line, while I redefine, how this all will be mine. I have a dream… it’s got a full head of steam!”_

She strutted and danced, though a little more subdued than she’d been upstairs in the cafeteria. Part of her was just _waiting_ for the moment someone would call down Lotor. Her entire plan hinged on him moving past the anger that she’d escaped and over into being intrigued, and she had to keep grabbing his attention for as long, and as many times, as she could.

Marisol pressed her back up to the chest of a soldier at one point, bringing up one hand to lay against the cheek that her head wasn’t against, and gesturing through the air as though drawing a picture of the future that the song described. She pushed away at the end of the line, just in time for Lotor to burst in, once again with his sword at the ready.

_“I’m the Maaaaaaaaaaad Hatter! Offering a little bit more!”_

Smoke and dodging, over and over and over again as she moved, trying to keep to the music without getting hit by an attack she couldn’t just shrug off, and well aware of how this ploy was causing her reserves to dwindle to dangerous levels.

She managed to time it right, reaching Lotor just as the song ended. Luckily, he seemed to consider this a stalemate of sorts, as he didn’t attack her outright, even though lightning had proven effective earlier. She smiled, bringing up one hand and ignoring his flinch, to run it lightly from his cheek around to ear, then down his jaw, and finally to his lips.

_“The bottom line…is everything will be fine. As all the planets align… it's gonna be so divine. When all of this will be miiiiiiiine!”_

The music faded, and Lotor glared down at her. “So, is that your plan? Taking over?”

“Oh, hardly. I’m not one for responsibility,” Marisol laughed. “But I do love a good musical number, especially the ones that get a little… jazzy.”

She traced her finger over his lips again, smiling at his mouth, and then switching to a smirk as she met his eyes. “Taking the hint yet?’

She burst into smoke just as the sword flashed around in an attempt to bisect her.

“I’ll take that as a no!”

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol amused herself by wreaking havoc a bit more. She started fires where she figured they’d do enough damage to hurt the ship, even if she couldn’t risk doing too much. She destroyed ships in the hangars, killed what she thought were the engines (but may have just been water heaters), and wrecked the medical bay…after stealing as much as she could from them.

She was a doctor. She liked learning about new kinds of medicine, and putting a space-bending storage matrix on the shank of her shoes meant she could store _plenty_ before she blasted the room with as much fire as she could.

Whatever happened, whether Voltron had the opportunity to destroy the ship or not, she was doing the kind of damage that would cause trouble for at least Lotor.

And, because Marisol was nothing without her aesthetic, she kept up some music with her everywhere she went. Usually jazz. Sometimes soundtracks. It was fun. Space Jam confused a lot of people.

Lotor was starting to look tired every time he found her, out of breath and fuming. That was good.

(She was starting to get pretty tired too.)

o.o.o.o.o

She was sitting on the floor, back to the door, with her arms resting on her bent knees.

 _“You._ ”

Marisol looked up from the pen she’d been spinning between her fingers. “Wassup?”

“What are you doing _in front of my room?”_ Lotor hissed.

“Waiting for you.”

This answer didn’t really seem to please him. “And how did you know where my room was?”

“Remember how I got into the ship?” Marisol shrugged. “I told them I was here to sleep with you for money, so they took me to your rooms before I tranced them into forgetting I was here at all.”

Lotor eyed her with distaste. “If you were planning to kill me, it would be more sensible to wait just _inside_ the room, rather than outside of it.”

“Who said I was planning to kill you?” Marisol asked. “Besides, that would be a massive invasion of privacy.”

“Which you’re _so_ concerned about,” Lotor drawled.

“I’m here for a different reason, one that I _keep hinting at_ , darling.”

“Don’t call me that,” Lotor snapped.

Marisol rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “How about you take a guess at what I’ve been hinting at.”

“…sexual matters, generally,” Lotor said, almost grudgingly. “An annoyance.”

“How?” Marisol asked.

“Because no one, no matter how foolish, would attempt to engage in sexual relations with an enemy while in _enemy territory_ while the enemy is, in fact, aware of their status as enemies,” Lotor said.

“…You said ‘enemy’ so many times that it doesn’t sound like a word anymore,” Marisol mused.

Lotor moved to draw his sword again, a snarl on his face.

“Okay, okay!” Marisol said, raising her hands. “First of all, let’s face it: I wouldn’t be in much danger if we did fuck, because, as I’ve demonstrated many, _many_ times today, I’m very good at escaping your clutches.”

“What.”

“Second of all, you’re really hot. Kind of a jackass, sure, but sexy. I can relate, as I am also a jackass that’s super fucking attractive.”

“ _What_.”

“Third of all, I’m _really_ horny,” hungry, actually, but he didn’t need to know that. “And you’re the only one on this thrice-damned ship that’s likely to be interested in casual sex.”

“You’re serious,” Lotor said, staring at her in something between horror and interest. “You actually want to sleep with someone that has not only attempted to kill _you_ , but a number of your compatriots.”

“You’re not the first person that’s tried to kill me that I’ve slept with afterwards,” Marisol said. “Hell, I’ve slept with Gaius _multiple times_ , and we’ve gotten into knife fights about video games.”

Lotor stared at her.

“Fine, if that’s not convincing you, then let’s just say that I need to kill time _somehow_ before I get off this hunk of metal, and I’m getting bored of messing with you guys. You’re really easy to bait. It was kind of funny at first, but now it’s just sad.” Marisol shrugged. She was lying, but again, he didn’t need to know that.

“You wouldn’t simply use that mind-control of yours?” Lotor asked. “Wouldn’t just take what you wanted?”

“No,” Marisol said, her voice hard enough that Lotor frowned in momentary consternation. “Because that would be _rape_ , and I don’t _do_ that.”

Silence clogged the air between them.

“And why _should_ I…” Lotor seemed to struggle with the phrasing for a moment, “Take you up on this offer?”

“Well, if I _could_ kill you, I would have by now. Evil overlord junior and all that,” Marisol said. Another lie, because Voltron preferred him alive as a prisoner, though dead was an acceptable compromise. “And I’m a succubus.”

“…what?”

“A sex demon. Basically? Whatever kind of sex you’ve had before, I will be better.” She grinned at him, all teeth. “There are people willing to put their lives on the line to sleep with my species.”

“Really.”

“I’ve got more sex-related abilities than you’d think,” Marisol said. “Including the ability to read your sexual history just from some physical contact, and I got that in the hangars, didn’t I?”

“…what?”

“I know, I know, invasion of privacy and all that, but I can’t really control it, you know?” Yet another lie. “But yeah, you’re… well, you’re not a _virgin_ , but you’re nowhere near as experienced as you were implying.”

She met his eyes and smiled.

He blinked slowly, clearly unimpressed. “And is that supposed to mean something to me? That you yourself are some… sexual savant? That regardless of those previous experiences, you will somehow _still_ manage to be better?”

“I’m a sex demon, darling,” Marisol raised an eyebrow. “I’m _everyone’s_ best.”

Lotor stared at her.

“How about a kiss?” she suggested, taking a few slow steps closer, one hand on her hip and every move as sensual as she could make it without getting ridiculous and thus silly. “Just so you see what it is that you’re dealing with. Make a decision after that, yeah?”

“I could kill you at any moment,” Lotor said.

“As easily as I could kill you, which… let’s face it, isn’t very likely,” Marisol sighed. “Come now, darling, _enjoy_ yourself. There are people who would kill for a chance at sleeping with someone like me.”

His sword flashed out, and the tip pressed to the hollow of her throat.

She looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “We both know this isn’t going to work.”

“This is a trap,” Lotor said. “I still can’t quite see how, but it very obviously _is_.”

“Maybe,” Marisol allowed, because it was. It was absolutely a trap, and it made her feel a bit better that he knew that. Consent under false pretenses wasn’t really consent, but if he knew it was a trap and _still_ did it… then it was still a little morally dubious, but at least she felt a little better about it.

“…the best way to see where a trap leads is to trigger it,” Lotor finally said, pulling his sword back and resheathing it. He crossed his arms and eyed her, contemplative and, for the first time, with no derision or distaste in his gaze. “You said you would convince me of your skill, did you not?”

 _Holy shit, it worked_.

Marisol didn’t let her surprise or glee show more than a tiny bit, and a minute later found the two of them toppling onto Lotor’s unsurprisingly comfortable bed.

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol feasted on the absurd quantity of energy that Lotor had, as the child of two powerful creatures such as Haggar and Zarkon were. She gorged herself on his power, and he was so caught up in the pleasure she drew from his every nerve that he never even noticed.

She did not kill him.

But she took him so very, very close to that edge.

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol dressed Lotor in one of the many outfits in his closet, and stole what looked like casual pants and a t-shirt for herself. The skimpy dress had been getting old, and had been ripped to shreds anyway.

She lay back, keeping an eye on Lotor’s breathing to make sure he was just unconscious and not actually dead, because she was good, but not good enough to know the specifics of an alien’s constitution just by looking at them. Her medical degree wasn’t going to help her with the hybrid of two alien races. She’d been relying on her instincts to tell her when she reached the point at which it was no longer safe to keep feeding on his energy, and he’d lost consciousness just minutes later as the physical exhaustion caught up with the magical.

A rumbling crash echoed through the ship, and for the first time in many hours, Marisol’s communicator came to life.

“ _Marisol?”_ Shiro’s voice came through. “ _You there?”_

“Alive and kicking, pretty boy,” she drawled with a smile. “How’s my favorite set of intergalactic heroes?”

“ _Mari!”_ Lance shouted. “ _Where are you?”_

“Pretty close to the center of the ship,” Marisol said. “Where should I find you guys? Keep in mind that I can just jump out into empty space and not die for a bit. I don’t need to breathe, so the main worry is just hypothermia.”

“ _If you get around to the hangars, I can scoop you up in Blue,_ ” Lance immediately said. “ _We’re close enough to track your communicator now, so I can just come over as soon as you hop out into empty space. Might not even have to leave the atmospheric shielding, if I time it right._ ”

“I’m holding you to that, Alejandro,” Marisol said. “See you in a few.”

She turned the communicator off and looked over at Lotor’s still unconscious body. With a shrug, she hefted him over her shoulder and focused in on her recently sated magical reserves, pulsing out a trance with only one order: _don’t notice us._

It worked.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance caught her without trouble, and they all landed safely in the Lion’s hangars just a few minutes later, with the clamor of Allura announcing a wormhole filtering in through Marisol’s communicator. Lance came down the stairs that led down from the cockpit to the ramp in Blue’s mouth, and stared at where Marisol sat on the floor with Lotor’s head in her lap, sex-tangled silver hair spilling everywhere.

“…how?” he finally asked.

“Feliz cumpleaños,” she said cheerily. “Do you like your present?”

“ _How?”_ Lance asked. “We’ve been trying to capture him for _months_.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out if you just use something other than your eyes for a moment,” Marisol said. “Penny in the air…”

“…oh my god,” Lance whispered. “You fucked him unconscious?”

“And the penny drops!” Marisol grinned. “Yeah, it took a while to talk him around into doing it, but once I got him in bed, he was so distracted by the sex that he didn’t even realize that he was more exhausted than he should be.”

“I’m…” Lance shook his head rapidly and brought one hand up to his helmet. “Coran? Allura? Someone prepare a containment pod or a jail cell or something. She brought back a prisoner. Yeah, highest priority we can get. Call in the Blade, if you can. Alert Matt’s rebellion, too. Wh—just get down here. Explaining this is going to be a _doozy_.”

(It was. Almost everyone had the same reaction on getting into the Blue Lion’s hangar, which was to stop and stare in shock at where Marisol stood with Lotor laid out at her feet, Lance behind her, like a cat that was proudly presenting her kill to the humans of the house.)

(“I brought you a present!” She teased again, grinning brightly. “Do you like it?”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter is... very delicate, in terms of ethics. Much more delicate than I meant for it to be, but plot points got moved around enough that I had to change how things played out, and the eventual product is this mess.
> 
> That said, my favorite part was ACTUALLY Marisol breaking out of the cell and then really obviously trying to figure out how to make the most dramatic reveal possible, because she's just that #extra.
> 
> I've been messing around with a Marisol playlist, including all the songs in this chapter. Most of said songs fall under sexy, jazzy, dance-y, or memes. Have fun: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwLMOOiOE5vyRjdeLPnwA8imy2cIPtHZh
> 
> Hopefully the length incites more of a response than last chapter did, even if this is still really, really OC-heavy. And the main conflict (especially from Allura's perspective) is basically "we put a civilian with superpowers behind enemy lines and now have to deal with the fact that some of her methods of survival aren't up to our moral and ethical standards, while some of the actions we'd encourage her to take, like killing, aren't up to hers, and that we need to accept the fact that she's doing what she can to stay alive and in some measure of control, because we're the ones that tried to send a civilian into this degree of danger in the first place."
> 
> The Galra approach to sex and sexuality is... actually basically mine. I'm an asexual person with sexual anhedonia, so that's an interesting thing to work with. (Identified as aro for five years, but recently, tentatively changed that to demi for reasons I don't feel like getting into.)
> 
> I know I said this would end with Chapter 40 as the climax and 41 as the epilogue so I could end it all before S3 came out, but I might shove in a breather chapter first and then shift those to 41/42 instead of 40/41. Because, uh... yeah. Pacing.


	40. Uneasy Lies the Head that Wears a Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breathe. And again. There's a storm on the horizon, clothed in skin and hatred, and you should enjoy the time you have before she chooses to strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a breather chapter of about 3k. Nonetheless...
> 
> WARNINGS: there's a holocaust mention, some discussions of what does or doesn't count as inhumane treatment of POWs and war crimes, more discussions of mind control ethics, and some mentions of past traumas.

“He’ll be waking up in about two minutes,” Coran said, eyeing the scanners on Lotor’s cell. “Princess?”

“I’ll handle it alone for the moment,” she said. “Please ask Nina to come in.”

A cell. Not a containment unit of the sort that they’d used for Sendak, even, but a _cell_ , because they _needed_ to interrogate Lotor, and would probably be moving him out elsewhere soon. He was laid out on a cot, simple and utilitarian, and there was little else in the room save for a small bathroom that didn’t even have full-height walls, but a rather short one that would cover from his hips to his knees while standing.

Other than the ones on the bathroom, the walls to the cell, including the full-height ones for the bathroom that kept the shower water and toilet smell from escaping, were all transparent force fields. The outside also had metal bars on it, strong enough that even an Altean would have trouble breaking them, just in case the power died and rendered the force fields inactive. It was a cell meant for the worst of their prisoners, the ones they couldn’t _afford_ to give privacy or the slightest bit of breathing room to.

(Hunk had made a comment about some movie called Dark World and space Vikings. Allura had no idea what a Viking was, and hadn’t asked. Apparently someone called Loki was involved, but not the one that _might_ have been responsible for Keith’s magical pois—alcohol. Magical alcohol powers. Not poison to the humans. Right.)

Allura pulled up a chair in front of the cell and sat back, crossing her arms and legs. Lance and his sister had both insisted on it, for the sake of drama, and Hunk and Pidge had backed them up. Allura… maybe understood the impetus, and so hadn’t argued against it.

She still wasn’t sure how to start the conversation, but she had a few points to hit in her mind, and had made sure to check in with individuals on which information was safe to release.

Nina came in, judged the layout of the room, and took a seat out of sight of Lotor’s cell, a small sheet of metal in her hands.

Lotor finally stirred, sitting up slowly, as though moving without haste would somehow let him retain his dignity. He was still facing the wall when Allura spoke, flat and unaffected and making him freeze and tense up.

“You’re an idiot.”

Well. Allura considered what she’d just said, though she didn’t move, just kept her crossed-arm, crossed-leg, slouching position with the unimpressed frown. It was one way to start a conversation. Interrogation. Whatever.

“Princess,” Lotor sighed, turning around to face her, legs coming down from the cot to rest on the floor. “What a… pleasure.”

Allura stared back.

“So, what was it?” Lotor asked. “Poison? I thought I’d checked her for that, but clearly not thoroughly enough.”

“You engaged in coitus,” Allura said slowly, “With a full-blooded _succubus_. Do know what their species does?”

“She indicated that she was designed, from a genetic standpoint, for sexual pleasures,” Lotor said. “A sex-oriented ok-vari, in her own words.”

“A sex demon,” Allura said. “In other words, by engaging in sexual activity with someone, they feed on the partner’s quintessence. One party gets pleasure. The concubus gets energy. Congratulations! You got yourself caught because you didn’t bother to do the research.”

Lotor raised an eyebrow. “Because I didn’t bother, is that it?”

“You had ample time after fighting my Blue Paladin in the fire, and more resources than anyone else in the universe save for, perhaps, your mother,” Allura said. “Yes. You didn’t bother.”

“Are you giving me advice on how to beat you, Princess Allura?”

“I’m condescending you for making poor decisions,” she said flatly. “And for letting your pride overwhelm your better sense, what little of it you _have_ , to the point where you knowingly walked directly into a trap laid by a _civilian_ , and still fell for it.”

“How rude,” Lotor quipped, still infuriatingly unaffected.

Allura shook her head and sat up. “I have questions.”

“I don’t suppose you expect me to play along,” Lotor said. “Or are you going to imply that you’ll stoop to torture as my own army does?”

“Who needs torture?” Allura asked. “Once upon a time, I might have attempted to simply keep you sedated and extract your memories, but that plan has previously proven untenable. However, it is also no longer necessary. We’ve a witch of our own, and she’s more than accomplished in the art of spells that affect the mind and body. In fact, I’d say that she already knows how to apply magic to you that no only renders you unable to lie, but also compels you to answer my questions when active.”

“It doesn’t seem to be working,” Lotor said. “Are you sure that your witch is as good as you claim?”

“I never said it was already active,” Allura said, and then nodded at Nina. Lotor froze up, eyes flickering down to the glowing-green markings that appeared on his chest, and then up at Allura with a fury she wasn’t all that surprised by. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and contented herself with the knowledge that Coran was recording _everything._ “Now, what can you tell me about your mother’s plans going on from here?”

Lotor spoke.

Oh did he speak.

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol looked up from the table as a mug of something brown was pushed into her field of vision. She took a sniff and… chocolate? Huh. She pulled her hands from her hair and pulled it closer, enjoying the warmth for a moment before she looked up a bit more.

“Hey,” Matt said, taking a seat.

“Hey yourself,” she said. “This is…”

“Hot chocolate,” he told her. “I asked your brother about what you could eat at one point, since you’re not part human and he looked like he needed a distraction. He said it was your favorite.”

“It is.”

“No marshmallows, though.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” she laughed. “Thank you, Holt.”

Matt pouted. “What, no first name? And here I was thinking we could make a club for overly worried older siblings of Voltron paladins.”

“Can I join?” Shiro asked, walking in with a mug of his own; the scent that wafted over was different, though, and Marisol knew without asking that _this_ one was coffee. “Or does it not count if the siblinghood is unofficial adoption?”

“I think the real sticking point is that you are _also_ a Voltron paladin,” Marisol said, watching as Shiro took a seat next to Matt. “Couldn’t sleep, pretty boy?”

“Last time we took a high-level prisoner, the Castle tried to kill us,” Shiro said. “I’m a little on-edge.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this story,” Matt said.

“I have,” Marisol said. “Sendak, right?”

Shiro nodded, looking down at his coffee and rolling the mug back and forth between his palms. “Sendak was an entirely different situation; the crystal he’d brought in corrupted the Castle’s artificial intelligence, and that’s what led to all the malfunctions and manipulation. But I still…”

“Can’t help but feel like history is going to repeat itself,” Matt said. “Yeah, I get that.”

“What about you, Holt? What’s got you up at this hour?” Marisol asked, trying to change the subject.

Matt shrugged, still uncomfortable. “I’ve got some bad shit stored up in the last year and a half, same as Shiro. Nightmares happen. Sometimes the only answer is to wait them out. You?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as humans do,” she said. “Especially after such a big meal, so to speak. And… well. Lots of guilt from the stuff I did on _The ES Schadenfreude._ ”

“What a pretentious name for a boat,” Matt muttered.

“Might be a more common sentiment or word in Galra than it is in English,” Shiro said. “Or German, as the case may be.”

“I’m kind of surprised they have a word for such a specific concept, but I guess… I mean, human languages can get pretty specific too, as evidenced by the fact that German _does_ have the word schadenfreude in existence,” Marisol said. “Funny coincidence, I guess?”

“Mm,” Matt hummed, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “If… if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you feel guilty about? I mean, you’re the reason we’ve finally captured _Lotor_. He’s not the biggest war criminal in the Galra army, but he’s the willing heir to a genocidal empire, and capturing him is like… almost as big as putting Zarkon in a coma, right Shiro?”

“It’s a big deal, yeah.” Shiro said. “I wouldn’t say it excuses _any_ action, but it’s a big enough step in ending this mess that I can’t imagine anyone would begrudge you taking some less ethical steps to do it.”

Marisol bit her lip and stared at her hot chocolate.

“Is it about sleeping with him?” Matt tried. “Because I can see where that would be gross.”

“Ugh, oh my god, he was like… a six point three at best,” Marisol laughed wetly, trying to joke it off. “But the taste of his quintessence did make up for it. No, this is… mostly about what I did to the rank and file, really.”

Matt and Shiro waited patiently for her to continue.

“I… I tranced a lot of people a few days ago. A _lot_ of them. And I tried to distract myself with Jedi Mind Trick jokes and using an auditory illusion to play amusing music and stuff like that, but… I still took away people’s free will. I didn’t kill anyone, not even the guy I tranced to sleep so I could drink his blood, but like? It’s not… I don’t _like_ trancing people like that. My day to day life only ever involves trancing as a ‘look at me for these two seconds’ sort of thing, more of a psychic poke than anything, and then if they aren’t interested I just… move on. There’s a mild hypnotic effect to my dancing too, I guess, but it’s so subtle and weak that even a _child_ could break out of it; people only stay tranced when I’m on stage if they want to be. But what I did on the ship was just… too much.”

She looked up to see Matt and Shiro both staring at her with… well, not pity, exactly, but commiseration, maybe.

“I’m not a soldier like you,” she said after a few seconds. “I’m not… I can’t make myself kill people. I dwell on the ways I’ve hurt people, even monsters that just want to enact genocides or kill me right back or whatever. I’m not a pacifist, but… I knew going in that I was going as a _distraction_. I’m pretty, I’m a good actor, I’m capable of keeping people’s attention on me for long enough that someone else can do the dirty work that needs to get done, but that’s where it ends. To use a conman’s comparison… I’m a grifter, maybe a thief, but not a hacker and _definitely_ not a hitter. I can get violent, but… it’s never like _that_. It’s never to the death. Even maiming is to other immortals who can shrug off the pain like it’s nothing.”

“It’s hard to kill when you’ve never done it before,” Shiro said quietly. “I didn’t get a choice, which at least made it a little easier to process the guilt, but I can understand where you’re coming from.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the underlying thoughts there.

( _That wasn’t me. I didn’t want to do it, but they forced me to. I hate that I killed, but it was_ not _my fault._ )

“I have,” she muttered. “Killed before, I mean. It was a long time ago, like, _before you were born_ long time ago, but it happened. Self-defense. I had nightmares for years.”

She looked up and quirked a smile at Shiro’s wide eyes. “Lance doesn’t know about that one, in case you were wondering.”

“So!” Matt said, clapping his hands and getting their attention with a panicky smile. “Disregarding all the ways it helped the war and the fact that he’s participating in said war as a major villain… was fucking Lotor worth it?”

Marisol laughed a little, then bit her lip as she considered it. “Mm… you know what? The energy makes up for the lack of experience, so I’m gonna go with yeah.”

“What’s the best you’ve had?” Matt asked. “Or is that rude to ask?”

“Are we talking best as in bragging rights or best as in enjoyable?” Marisol asked.

“…I kind of want to know what you mean by bragging rights,” Matt said. “But I meant the latter.”

“Best for the latter is Aphrodite, bragging rights is _several_ gods, mostly Greek and Norse, including a few threesomes, Puck the fae, and now the heir to an intergalactic empire.” Marisol grinned at Matt’s delighted gaping, and the way Shiro buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Oh, come on, pretty boy. You can’t blame me for that one. He _asked.”_

“I know,” Shiro said, looking up at her. “But somehow I just… keep getting reminded how strange my life is now. I already knew you’d slept with Dionysus, but the rest?”

“I get around,” Marisol said, shrugging. She took a sip of her hot chocolate with a coy smile. “Besides, how did you _think_ I knew what ambrosia actually tastes like? Greek for ‘food of the gods,’ baby. Anyway, Dio likes to introduce me to people as his accidental masterpiece of a blessing.”

“His accidental masterpiece?” Shiro asked, eyebrow quirking. “That sounds a little condescending.”

“The masterpiece is the blessing, obviously. I’m my own person, and we’ve got like… a whole routine worked out for introductions that make it clear,” Marisol waved it off. “Point is, I have friends in high places because I’ve got the Greek god of wine and revelry on speed dial.”

“You’re _amazing_ ,” Matt said, gleeful and maybe a little giddy.

Marisol snorted. “Yeah, I’m pretty great.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Shiro muttered, but he was smiling. “Watch yourself, Álvarez. Matt’s k—his favorite thing is people who _could_ kick his ass but are too nice to do it.”

“You were about to say kink, weren’t you?”

“I realized it might be in bad taste at the last moment,” Shiro admitted. “But I felt you maybe needed the warning anyway.”

“Consider me warned,” Marisol said with a gracious nod of her head. She glanced over at Matt, who was pouting ridiculously, and then laughed. “You two are _terrible_ for my brooding.”

“Bad thing?” Matt asked with a shit-eating grin.

“Nah, definitely not.” Marisol took another ship of her hot chocolate. “So… new subject?”

“We could share embarrassing stories about our respective little siblings,” Matt suggested with a sly grin.

“Or cute stories about Shiro’s baby girl,” Marisol added.

“Oh my god, that’s right! How old is Emiko now?” Matt asked, turning and lacing his fingers together to drop them on Shiro’s shoulder and look up at him with puppy eyes. “Pidge said you guys got in contact but I forgot to ask!”

“She just turned nine a month and a half ago,” Shiro said. “She, uh… well, Marisol managed to arrange for Emiko to visit on her birthday, so that was nice.”

“You can call me Mari, you know,” Marisol said. “Or Sol, but nobody except Nina really uses that one.”

“Awwwww,” Matt cooed. “That’s adorable!”

“Anyway,” Shiro said with a cough. “Embarrassing sibling stories? Marisol, do you have any?”

“ _So many_ ,” she swore. “Let’s see… ay, there’s the time I took Lance to hell when he was eleven?”

“You _what?”_ Matt asked, still grinning. He leaned over the table. “Seriously, what?”

“Oh, I’ve heard bits of this one,” Shiro said. “Not much beyond the fact that it happened, though. No details.”

“Listen, I’d run out of babysitting ideas and figured it would make a good field trip,” Marisol defended herself. Both of the men in front of her looked like they were more than interested in those exact details. “Well, okay, so it started like this…”

They talked for hours, taking turns and maybe dipping into the magic alcohol stash a bit, on Marisol and Matt’s parts.

o.o.o.o.o

Magic, Allura decided, was very nice when it was on your side.

Nina had proven more than a little useful over the course of the past few days, but the time had come and passed to decide on what to do with Lotor. Allura and Shiro had talked it over at length with Kolivan, discussing option after option. Shiro had preferred the idea of sending Lotor to one of the Blade’s more isolated outposts, somewhere far away enough that they didn’t need to worry about him sabotaging or spying on them. Allura had liked the idea, but eventually decided that she wanted Lotor somewhere closer in case they needed more information… and because she liked the idea of being able to have the prison tailor-made and adjusted around him more easily. There wasn’t a technology that Allura knew of that would allow them to contain Lotor’s own magical abilities, those he’d learned and inherited from Haggar.

Magic could block magic, though, and Allura had ordered a gaseous sedative, known to work on both Galra and Alteans, into Lotor’s cell after the first, mostly successful interrogation.

(She refused to call it anything other than what it was. It was not torture. It was not an ‘interview.’ It was an interrogation.)

“It would be more permanent as a tattoo,” Nina had told her. “But that’s… kind of tripping into levels of inhumane that you’d probably prefer to avoid?”

“What is a tattoo?” Allura asked.

“You guys don’t… right, shapeshifters.” Nina huffed, crossing her arms. “Basically, a bunch of tiny needles jab down into the skin, injecting ink, which leaves behind a marking that you can’t get rid of unless you undergo like… laser surgery or something. Painful as all get-out, but some people like the idea of that kind of permanent image.”

Allura made a face. “That sounds painful.”

And Nina… she turned away from her work to _grin_ at Allura. “It is.”

And then she turned back to Lotor’s cell and reached up to pull her hair to the side, revealing an image in black ink on her skin. Or, Allura supposed, under her skin.

“What is it?” She asked.

“A plant called ‘Enchanter’s Nightshade,’” Nina said, letting it fall back down to cover the back of her neck once more. “I felt like choosing something a little on-the-nose, y’know?”

Allura shook her head. “I can’t say I relate.”

“What, do other species not engage in body mods?” Nina asked, turning to lean her side against the cell, eyebrows quirked. “Because, uh, don’t get me wrong? But that sounds really unlikely.”

“They do,” Allura told her. “The Balmerans tend to pierce their horns, as they feel no pain there. The Unilu tend to pierce actual flesh, much like humans. I believe the Galra and several other species engage in scarification, though that is… primarily for ritual purposes, I think.”

“Yeah?” Nina asked. “I’d have thought that kind of thing died out.”

“What do you mean?” Allura asked.

“On Earth… well, if the head of a totalitarian regime isn’t personally religious, then they tend to stamp out religion as thoroughly as they can. Definitely happened a lot in Eastern Europe. China too, I think. Didn’t really _succeed_ completely, but people got good at hiding religious affiliations until it wasn’t illegal anymore.” Nina shrugged. “I guess I just figured Zarkon would have tried to do that too. Get rid of any hint of religion or anything else that could have resulted in ritualistic stuff.”

Allura shook her head. “Well, they were doing it ten thousand years ago. Some of the Blade of Marmora still have such markings, though we rarely see them due to the uniforms.”

“Huh,” Nina mused. “But you’ve never seen tattoos before?”

“No, I haven’t,” Allura admitted. “It does seem the sort of thing that would require a very specific kind of body type, however. Fur would be a hindrance, for one.”

Nina barked out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true. I know a couple people back on Earth who’d love to get tattoos but have something like that stopping them. It sucks.”

“I see.” Allura nodded. “And… you believe that a tattoo of your spells on Lotor would be more effective?”

“Bad idea, mostly.” Nina turned to look at him. “A permanent lock on his magic? Inhumane, like I said. I think forcing tattoos onto prisoners might be a war crime, actually; they did it in the holocaust, and anything that happened _there_ is a sign of a really, seriously shitty thing to do. Granted, a prisoner of war who has previously played party to either genocides or something equally terrible is a fair sight different from innocent civilians forced into concentration camps, so what do I know?”

“I… have no idea what you’re talking about,” Allura told her.

“We can give you a history lesson on Earth’s worst wars later, if you want.” Nina pointed at the cell. “Think we’re good to go in so I can do what I need to do?”

“I still wish to know what it is that you will be doing if this tattoo idea is considered ethically and morally dubious enough to refrain from enacting it.”

“Permanence charm,” Nina said. “Which, contrary to the name, isn’t _entirely_ permanent. Only I or someone equally skilled and powerful can remove it, and even that requires knowing how I cast it in the first place. That way, there’s still the option of eventually removing it, but we’ll have removed one of his greatest weapons from play for an indeterminate period of time.”

“What will power these spells?”

“Feedback loop of his own energy,” Nina said. “If he’s not using magic, then he’ll have plenty ‘quintessence’ to spare for the spells to pull from. And if he gets exhausted enough to stop powering the spells, then he’ll be too exhausted to use magic and fight anyway.”

Allura frowned, considering this. “Would that not mean that, if he was exhausted enough, it would be possible for someone else to remove the markings once he stopped powering the permanence charm?”

“That’s why I’m organizing them so that the permanence charm is the last to fail, and builds up its own reserves so that it’ll keep powering for a while even if he _does_ end up that exhausted,” Nina admitted. “It’s not foolproof, but it’s a damn sight better than you’d be likely to get from anything short of the tattoos, and inhumane treatment of POWs is far from my only concern there.”

“You mean…”

“You said you wanted to convince him to work _with_ you in dismantling his empire from the inside out so that there was a minimum of chaos, right? Or turning it into a republic or something?” Nina shrugged. “You want to keep him at least marginally happy for that. He’s still a high level prisoner of war and all, so it’s only logical to do your whole ‘lack of privacy’ thing, and the massive restrictions, but let’s face it: you want to be able to say that you treated him better than he would have treated you at the end of the day, right?”

“Well, obviously. I do have standards.”

“Considering we went with the absolute most ethical way we could with that interrogation while still making sure we got truthful answers? I get that. You want to keep your hands as clean as possible. Partly to keep your hero cred, partly because you legitimately _are_ that good of a person, and partly so he’s as cooperative as possible when the time comes to try making him your little puppet or whatever?”

“ _Puppet?”_ Allura demanded, immediately offended.

“Sorry, wrong way to put that.” Nina sighed, rubbing the heel of her palm against her forehead. “My point is, he’s a useful piece on the giant fucking chess board that is an intergalactic war, and keeping him mostly happy is a good thing if you want him working with you in the future, right?”

Allura bit her lip and turned her eyes on Lotor’s unconscious form. “I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Having him cooperate and then ordering the Galra empire to be dismantled would result in a much smaller loss of life than attempting to fight each successor individually until they simply give up,” Allura allowed. “Lotor still has enough pull that he can order almost anything unless Haggar countermands it, or Zarkon wakes up. The Galra will listen, for the most part, if he orders something, no matter how much they may personally disagree.”

“And he’s young enough that he’d be easier to influence,” Nina pointed out. “Young adult? Lot easier to turn around on that kind of thing than someone in or past middle age, in my experience.”

“And what would you count as?”

Nina made a face. “Let’s just… get this done.”

Allura laughed softly as she deactivated the walls on the cell.

o.o.o.o.o

Lance hummed a little, strumming on the guitar Marisol had brought him back in May. Just a few chords, here and there, but pleasant anyway.

“Listen,” Marisol said, pointing almost aggressively at Matt’s chest. “Sometimes? Sometimes you just have to fuck your way out of a bad situation.”

“Exactly,” Lance said, nodding.

Hunk groaned.

“You know, Lance _said_ that was a saying in your family,” Pidge said. “But I didn’t expect it to be _true_.”

“Why not?” Marisol asked. “It’s pretty much exactly what I did on the Schadenfreude… well, actually, it’s more that I fucked my way _into_ a good situation. I was pretty squarely neutral before that. Could have just hidden out in the vents or something until you showed up.”

“Why am I friends with you?” Keith asked Lance.

“Lion brain-meld and good sex,” Lance answered promptly. “Also, I think we saved each other’s lives a few times?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t remember the bonding moment?” Keith asked.

“There’s no pretending about it,” Lance said. “I was concussed and kind of in a coma? I don’t remember much other than flashes of color between the explosion and coming out of the pod.”

“Wow, let’s _not_ remind me of how many times you’ve almost died,” Marisol said. “Is that a thing that can happen?”

“I could go back to the music?” Lance offered, patting the guitar.

“Ooooh, do the Alice one,” Marisol said.

“Uh… there’s more than one Alice one, dude,” Lance said, laughing a little. “Which one?”

“You know _exactly_ which one, brat,” Marisol said, pouting. “And if you don’t play it, I’ll take that guitar and do it myself.”

“Booo,” Lance jeered, but readjusted the guitar and strummed experimentally a few times to remind himself of how the song went. “Cheshire Kitten, coming right up.”

“Not the full title,” Marisol said, but closed her eyes and nodded along as Lance plucked out the first few notes, then started singing along. “ _I grew up seeing things a little differently, appearing, disappearing, hardly innocent, nor tied down to the ground.”_

Lance grinned down at his guitar, then up at his sister. A quick glance around the room showed that most of the room was watching. He joined in the singing as the chorus came around.

“ _If I leave my grin behind, remind me, that we’re all mad here, and it’s okay._ ”

He hummed the backing vocals instead of a harmony for a while after, only singing along when there was more than once voice in the original… as far as he could remember. He couldn’t entirely pick out, in his memory, which sections had multiple parts.

Heavy footsteps made their way down the outside hall, and Lance watched as several members of the Blade of Marmora walked past, larger and bulkier and more intimidating than any of the paladins, honestly.

“Lotor’s new guards, huh?” Matt muttered, watching them with a sharp eye. “Bet the Princess is relieved.”

“Still wish he wasn’t on board,” Pidge said, frowning.

“The decision was made,” Shiro said. “We’ll do what we can to work with it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pidge grumbled, turning back to her project.

“ _You gotta greet the sun before his lovely daughter moon_ ,” Lance and Marisol crooned together, and Lance knew that both of their own gazes were far heavier than the fun little song really warranted. They listened as the footsteps faded, measures and measures before the last notes of the song would.

“…do you have any country?” Keith asked, in a transparent attempt to lighten the mood and change topics.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” Lance shifted his fingers a little. “Actually, how do you feel about ‘three chords and the truth’ Queen?”

“Three chords and _what?”_ Keith asked.

“Oh, okay, um… it’s a type of song formula? Or something?” Lance scratched the back of his head. “Here, let me just… ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ bother anyone? No? Okay, I’ll just…”

Lecturing on music to a bunch of people in a spaceship was far from the strangest thing Lance had ever done, though he did let his sister take over at a few points.

o.o.o.o.o

“Hey,” Hunk said, hands in his pockets as he stood in front of Lotor’s cell. He ignored the Blade members standing guard in the corners and by the only exit.

An unimpressed gaze met his. “They sent you? I know I complimented your skills as a conversationalist before, but I’m afraid I’ve no interest in speaking with you, or anyone else.”

“I know,” Hunk said, taking a seat anyway. “But I’m here.”

“Why?”

“Because I feel like it must really suck to have your only real contact be getting interrogated,” Hunk said. “How’re you liking the food?”

“It is… adequate,” Lotor said, making a face. “On occasion.”

“Which meal? Breakfast, lunch, or dinner?”

“I have no meaning attached to those words, and even if I did, I have no accurate manner in which to sense the passing of time,” Lotor said. “The last meal I received was of adequate quality. The one prior to that was not.”

“Thanks.”

“…what?”

“I made the one you liked. Coran made the one you didn’t. You were complimenting me, kind of, even if you were being an asshole about it, so thanks.”

Lotor scoffed. “Ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” Hunk shrugged. “Marisol’s gone, by the way. She said to tell you that your energy was very tasty, but that your lack of experience in bed is really obvious.”

Lotor’s jaw dropped open. “ _Excuse me?”_

Hunk held up his hands and leaned away, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, and maybe hiding his smile a little. “Don’t shoot the messenger, buddy.”

“That… that—!”

“Succubus?” Hunk suggested. “Dude, she’s literally slept with _gods_. With beings that are older than both your parents, too, if the rumors about Puck are true. Being mediocre in her book isn’t really… a failing, especially if it’s a lack of experience. It’s natural.”

Lotor glared at him.

“Okay, whatever.” Hunk sighed and pulled out a datapad. “I’m going to do something that’s probably just going to end with you sneering at me, but I’m an optimist when it helps me, so maybe not!”

“Joy,” Lotor said through gritted teeth.

“Right, so, time for an introduction to Western European Enlightenment Era philosophy. I was gonna start off with Robespierre, but I figured he gets… really caught up in the French Revolution, which you probably don’t know enough about to make sense of some of the stuff he says, especially without _hours_ of context, not to mention the whole Reign of Terror stuff… so I’m starting you out with some Kant instead, then Locke and Hobbes, and then circle back around to Robespierre.”

“I have not a single iota of a clue as to who these people are,” Lotor said drily.

“Yeah, well, neither did I, until Lance got really, _really_ into history and politics one summer because he was obsessed with the Hamilton musical.” Hunk shook his head. “He’d probably explain this better than I could, but I feel like our conversation way back when, and me making the better meals in the Castle, are probably a good foundation for a rapport… while the whole thing with fight you had in an on-fire skyscraper, and what with you fucking his sister and all… yeah, no. I’m taking this one.”

“I’m _ecstatic._ ”

“Your sarcasm is duly noted and unappreciated,” Hunk told him. “Now. Kant. Fun times.”

o.o.o.o.o

It took five weeks of Earth time, everyone on tenterhooks while waiting for Haggar to make her move and get revenge for the kidnapping of her son, for something to actually _happen_. The Galra Empire didn’t stop making moves in this time, of course. They still answered any number of distress calls. They still fought warships on the regular. They still ran into Robeasts, even.

But there was no noticeable move from Haggar herself in regards to Lotor’s disappearance. It was _obvious_ that they’d been the ones to take him. She had to be planning _something_. But nobody knew what.

And then…

And then Planet Sídhe called.

“You were right,” Puck sighed, as though it were pulling something deep within him to admit that. “Those Galra came to us, and they have made to take the planet by force. I expect that witch will be making her way down to us soon, to ‘convince’ us to join her, but that many ships? A threat is what they are, and not a light one.”

“We’re on our way,” Allura said, barely getting a nod from Puck before the video ended. She steeled herself. “Setting a course for Farhin.”

(The Fae had called for help.)

(That was…)

(That was bad news.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I need more Coran, tbh. Well, he'll get more time next chapter.
> 
> Current plans: one more chapter, and then an epilogue.
> 
> (I keep worrying that the OCs are probably turning everyone off. This started off as very much a core-cast fic, and it...isn't really that anymore. No more bottle episodes, I guess.)


	41. The Fairyland Buys Not the Child of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't fuck with Fae, Haggar. You just don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The true climax. I've had this in the plans since May, so... have fun?
> 
> WARNINGS: child death mention (someone brings up the baby Hitler question)

Puck called one more time to tell them that a small contingent of Galra had come down to address Mab and Titania. He stayed on the line just long enough to confirm that it was Haggar, and then left to play his role as… whatever he was. Royal advisor was probably closest, in some ways, but… well. Puck.

“I need to go down,” Lance said, when they were almost out of the other end of the wormhole. “Allura can take Blue, but we need someone contacting the fae in person, and—”

“We do _not_ ,” Allura snapped. “If they truly need more help, they have the communicator, and a large enough population that even though Haggar _has_ chosen to visit them, someone will be able to contact us should it go wrong. Right now, we need our most efficient formation possible, which means we need you in Blue and Voltron in action. If they call again, and need help planetside, then we will augment our plans. Until such a time, however, we will engage as we always have.”

Lance held her gaze for a long moment, barely noticing when they came out the other end of the wormhole to a fleet of Galra fighters and more than one warship.

“If there’s any planet that doesn’t need our help on the ground,” Shiro said, startling them both, “It’s this one. Lance, you’ve warned us about them enough times that I think they can take care of themselves on that front. We’ll handle the ships in the sky, be air support, everything. _That’s_ what we know they can’t handle. _That’s_ what we know is beyond them. And that’s what we’re going to focus on, unless it turns out they do need help on the surface.”

Lance bit his lip and ducked his head, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Lance?” Shiro prompted.

“I get it,” Lance muttered. “I do. I just… something feels weird. Big. Like everything’s going to go down, and then just… pear-shaped.”

“I know, but we can’t afford to risk being less efficient to check in when we have something faster, like the communicator we gave them.” Shiro put a hand on Lance’s shoulder and squeezed. “Have a little faith.”

“I do. More than the rest of you, last I checked,” Lance muttered, grinning when that prompted a snort from half the room.

“Trust, then.”

“Faith, trust, and pixie dust?” Lance quipped, looking up with a small smile. “I’m pretty sure the only place I can get that last one is planetside.”

“…get to your lion, kid,” Shiro said, rolling his eyes with a grin of his own. He turned to Allura. “Princess?”

“I’ll relay instructions as the battle wears on,” Allura said. “Go.”

The battle was more straightforward than anyone expected. Yes, they had to fight multiple warships, but that was old hat at this point. Yes, they had to fight swarms and swarms of fighters, but that was almost a piece of cake at this point, especially when they formed Voltron and used the shoulder canon, or the Castle’s defenses, to target many of them at once. Yes, there were even Druids and a Robeast, which were trickier to handle by far, but even that was something they could handle, once Allura deployed onto the Druids’ warship and started fighting with everything she had.

They could handle things. It was difficult, in some cases, but they could handle it.

No, the problem was that _Haggar wasn’t there_.

Weeks, they’d worried over her and her eventual retaliation for Lotor’s capture. For all the woman’s many, many sins, she did have some degree of protectiveness regarding her family. Twisted, perhaps, but there was certainly _some_ degree of affection. Despite this, she wasn’t attacking herself. The Blade of Marmora guards at Lotor’s cell reported in regularly with confirmations that she wasn’t using the battle as a cover to steal him back, with passcodes designed specifically to avoid someone using Matt’s ploy from when they’d boarded Lotor’s ship. There’d been no other notable breeches. Even the Druids seemed a little… off.

Lance listened carefully when Allura took the plunge to call down to the planet below.

“This is Pri—this is the Princess,” she said, catching herself at the last moment. Lance clenched his jaw, having almost called out to her himself when it had looked like she would announce herself as ‘Princess Allura of Altea,’ as she usually did, which… well. _Fae_. “Of the Castle of Lions. Haggar does not appear to have returned to the battle, and we have nearly finished. Do you require aid on the ground?”

The reply took a long time, and finally, _finally_ , just as Voltron and the Castle finished chasing down the last of the small fighter ships, the call came in.

“Oh, this Puck would say the wicked witch has tried her worst, but fairy queens are stronger still, and the battle did _not_ rage,” he laughed. “But consequences must be faced, bodies taken out, and Goodfellow I may be, but this prize is not ours to be won. We have our trophy; we expect your Lazuli to come take the scattered rest.”

“…indeed,” Allura said, after a long and obviously confused silence. With a click, the call disconnected, and Lance turned Blue to face the Castle again. “Lance, do you know what that was all about?”

“Uh… they did something to Haggar and want me to come pick up the pieces they don’t want?” Lance offered. “Honestly, I have no clue.”

“What are the chances of her playing possum, do you think?” Hunk asked.

“With the fae?” Lance asked. “I don’t… I don’t know. They’re tricky and powerful, but Haggar didn’t get where she did by being stupid or weak. She’s clever. So are they. It’s…”

“How likely are you to walk into a magical standoff?” Shiro asked.

“I’d be more concerned about Haggar coming to life at the last possible moment and trying to kill me and steal Blue,” Lance said. “Allura?”

“…go,” she finally ordered. “Keep your comms open at _all times_. No muting for any reason.”

“Roger that,” Lance said, spinning to ease Blue down towards a thin, thready path of lights leading towards the fuzzy edge between the planet’s day and night. Hinkypunks to lead the way, again. It was counterintuitive, really, but Lance supposed that it made sense for the fae to approach it like this.

The clearing he landed in was much smaller than the one that the Castle had taken its place in, months before, but it was hopefully much closer to whatever his destination was now.

“Come,” a voice said, and Lance turned to see a faerie standing a few feet away; not just any faerie, either, but the red-haired, black-eyed, green-winged messenger fae that had answered his violin summons, once upon a time. “I will lead you.”

“As much as I appreciate the offer, and as ridiculous as this would sound out of context…” Lance trailed off, biting his bottom lip. “I think following the will-o-the-wisps is safer.”

“Then I shall accompany you,” they said, falling into step with Lance as they headed down the hinkypunk path.

Lance didn’t try to make conversation, just kept his eyes ahead in the slowly-lightening dawn. Too-slow, really, but that could be blamed on the sluggish turning of Planet Sídhe.

There was no raucous party music or smell of pungent alcohol this time, no decorative lights or cheery laughter. The fae he sensed were silent and watching, and he saw more of them than he expected. Their eyes were wide and glittering, faces resting in watchful, inhuman neutrality. Their necks turned smoothly as he passed them by, and Lance plucked on his connection to Blue for a little reassurance.

The wind rustled the leaves, but there was no buzzing of insects or chirping of birds. No noise save for the wind and the crunch of dirt under his feet and those of his companion. It was a relief when he finally heard quiet murmuring in the distance, barely audible, but still there.

 _“Blue?”_ Allura asked. _“How are you holding up?”_

“It’s too quiet,” Lance responded. “Only just coming up on the clearing now. I’ll report in soon.”

The hinkypunks dispersed as Lance reached a break in the trees, and it took a moment to readjust to the suddenly dimmer lighting.

It was all very cold and grey in the mist and light of dawn, save for a large, mostly clear crystal in the center of the clearing, glowing white.

Lance didn’t even notice the royalty in the clearing at first. This was understandable, as what he saw in the crystal was the visibly raging, ghostly figure of Haggar. There was no lightning coming from her hands or weapons from beneath her cloak, but she was screaming and banging on what would have been a wall if the crystal wasn’t, as Lance knew without a doubt, completely and utterly solid. She, too, was wholly silent, not a single sound coming from the prison no matter how much she hit the walls or shouted.

Feeling faintly ill and just a little horrified, Lance let his gaze drop to the ground, tracing over crumpled soldiers, sentries, and even a Druid, until his eyes met the figure at the queens’ feet.

He looked up sharply, meeting Titania’s eyes, and then Mab’s. Mouth dry, and completely forgetting any sense of decorum, he asked, “What did you _do?”_

o.o.o.o.o

_One varga earlier:_

The fae weren’t used to outside threats, not really. Oh, they’d been attacked by plenty of Earth’s supernatural community before; the vampires, in particular, seemed to enjoy a good war every now and again. But they existed not on another plane of existence, but on another _planet_ entirely, in a solar system that was hidden from human sight entirely. Whenever someone had attacked before, it had been child’s play to simply close the portals, all the natural and unnatural paths there rendered null and void until the attempts at siege were over. Isolationism was annoying when they cut themselves off from even Earth, but it was still something that _worked_.

It did not work against the Galra.

The Galra did not enter through portals that the fae alone controlled. Titania could not just wave a hand and kill their engines as she did a tree tunnel. Mab could not simply pulse her magic and form a shield over the planet as she iced over the ponds that led so many from Earth to Sídge. Oberon could not simply burn away their oponents as he did the magic that powered a tree tunnel. Even Puck couldn’t just stop the Galra as he did a fairy ring.

Technology in orbit was not the same as magic on the ground or in the atmosphere. It was a situation that left them in dangerous straits for the first time in a very, very long time.

“It’s all iron and steel,” a younger fae muttered, their voice a muted hiss against the relative quiet of the night. “We’ll have trouble ridding ourselves of them if they land.”

“Or crash,” an elf said, her lip curled in disgust.

“Isn’t that what those lions are for?” a faerie asked. “They did offer to help…”

“You want to owe them?” The elf asked.

“Better to owe a hero who won’t take advantage than to have such dangers in our woods,” the faerie snapped. “You know their type; too cautious to call in those favors unless absolutely necessary. We’ll have no trouble with _choosing_ how to repay them.”

“Enough,” Mab said, her soft voice carrying across the field without trouble. They were in Seelie territory, but the grass at her feet, that which felt the faintest swish of her tattered black skirts, was dead and frosted over nonetheless. “Puck? Make the call.”

“This be Robin Goodfellow,” he announced as the call connected.

(Oberon stifled a laugh. This be. Thisbe. It wasn’t quite _clever_ , but it was at least a little funny.)

“Answering is the Castle of Lions,” the Princess’s voice came through. “What news have you?”

Perhaps the little incubus had done his part and taught her how to bend her words the way that they of Sídhe were partial to.

“You were right,” Puck sighed, pulling an irritated face. “Those Galra came to us, and they have made to take the planet by force. I expect that witch will be making her way down to us soon, to ‘convince’ us to join her, but that many ships? A threat is what they are, and not a light one.”

Titania’s lips pressed thin.

“We’re on our way,” the Princess said, and Puck ended the call.

“ _Heroes_ ,” the elf scoffed.

“Much as we may be loathe to admit it, we do require their aid in this situation,” Mab said, her eyes on the sky. “We’ve few weapons capable of fighting those warships. Best to let Voltron handle it.”

“You’ve all heard the rumors, just as we have,” Titania added. “They do not ask for payment, simply help in the war if those they aid can spare such. They, at least, will not view this as a debt owed from us to them.”

“That does not negate the existence of said debt,” Puck reminded her.

“Of course not, but it does give us some…” Titania paused, mulling it over. “Breathing room.”

“Indeed,” Mab said, a frown upon her lips. “That said, we sho—”

“She comes!” A scout shouted, eyes on the skies. Too far as yet for others to see, but some of the fae had much better sight than others; if they said someone was on their way down, then it was unlikely that they were unsure.

“Shall we extend a path?” Oberon asked quietly.

Mab and Titania eyed each other, and then nodded simultaneously. Each raised an arm, and the will-o-the-wisps from the forest came awake and formed a line to the stars.

“I believe their ship is small enough to land here,” the scout said, nervous and hesitant.

“So be it,” Mab said, earning herself a glare from Titania as she adjusted the light to lead down to the clearing.

“Do not forget that you are in _my_ court, Mab.”

“Oh, I most certainly haven’t,” Mab answered, with a sidelong look at Titania. “You do recall that we’ll need to work together in case this witch is as powerful as they claim?”

“Then let us hope she is not.”

“Catty,” Puck laughed, grinning when both queens shot him glares of their own. “Remember that the enemy of your enemy is your friend. You have a greater worry than the grievances between Seelie and Unseelie. You’ve no need of war with one another when your respective reigns are as short as they have been. And of course… time runs out.”

He gestured at the skies, where the ship was now visible to the naked eye, and had almost landed.

“Her years,” Mab said quietly, meeting Titania’s eyes. “A sufficient plan if she proves a danger?”

Titania considered that, and then nodded slowly. “Acceptable.”

They both turned to face the ship as it landed. Oberon took a place by Titania’s shoulder, just a step or two behind, and Puck hopped up and back to the boughs of a tree, appearing no different from the rest of the scattered fae in the clearing for the moment. It was always best to keep one’s best weapons in reserve, after all, and even the queens would admit to Puck’s power outranking all but the two of them, especially since he knew _how_ to use his power. Their’s was inherited and untested, but Puck’s was earned over the course of millennia.

The witch stepped out, accompanied by several soldiers, some kind of automaton, and… ah, another magical. Not Altean, but some kind of… warped Galra, perhaps. The witch herself had power, enough that it could be sensed even by the royals, but tainted in a way that wasn’t entirely natural. Whatever method she had used to gain her power, at least part of it was artificial in a way that it could be sensed.

Unfortunately, that did not make the power _fake_. Begotten artificially? Perhaps. But it was there and just as much a part of her pool of resources as the more natural kind.

“I don’t suppose you already know why I am here,” she finally said.

“Let us pretend that we don’t,” Titania said, one hand propped on her hip.

“You know of the war,” the witch rasped out.

“Our planet closed its borders for a reason,” Mab said, hands clasped and voice level. “Yes. We know of the war that you and yours started.”

“So quick to point fingers,” the witch tutted, sounding almost amused.

“Your blood traces to one side of the conflict and your loyalty to the other,” Mab said, voice soft.

“So indeed: you and yours,” Titania said. “Whether Altean or Galra, one side started the war, and you have belonged to both.”

“Most don’t know that,” the witch said.

“Most aren’t fae,” Titania said, a proud tilt to her head.

(The fae in the clearing, of course, knew that this was complete and total bullshit. They did have plenty of access to information magically, but it was Voltron that had told them of the witch’s past. Still, for all that they could not lie, they were more than free to bend the truth and then just… let it break on its own.)

“Speak your piece,” Mab said. “We’ve queendoms to attend to.”

“Our courts await our attentions,” Titania agreed. “For all that you may have time to play at being a ruler and dancing in foreign courts, we have actual duties.”

( _“Too much,_ ” came a breath of a whisper from Puck.)

Nonetheless, the witch’s mouth pursed sourly. “Introductions, then.”

“Titania, Queen of the Seelie Courts.”

“Oberon, King Consort of the Seelie Courts.”

“Mab, Queen of the Unseelie Courts.”

The witch eyed them for a long moment. “Haggar, right hand of Zarkon, Emperor of the Galra Empire.”

The fae all turned to face her, leaning forward just a little. Even those who had been pretending to ignore the Galra contingent, or had been watching the royalty, turned to look at Haggar.

A True Name.

Not an original, they could feel that much, but a _True Name_.

Freely given, too.

“Well, that was just poor judgement,” Puck said, soft and amused, but loud enough for Haggar to hear anyway.

“We’d known your name before,” Mab mused, “But we wouldn’t use it. With the internet and all such affectations, it is too easy to catch one’s name these days.”

“It’s cheating. Not as fun. There’s no _challenge,_ ” Oberon added, a slight smile on his face. “You, though… you _gave_ us your name.”

“Terrible choice, really,” Titania said. “Did no one warn you?”

“A warning?” Haggar scoffed. “I have three warships in orbit, several Druids, and countless fighter ships. If you attack me, then your entire _planet_ is forfeit. We have refrained from attacking because of your _supposed_ power, but that is no longer the case. We now have the power to drain your entire planet of quintessence, and if you do not cooperate, we will do exactly that.”

“Druids,” Titania said slowly. “How droll.”

“A true Druid is a religious leader and, on occasion, a soothsayer. Prophesy, mostly.” Oberon tilted his head. “…not you.”

“Twisted,” Mab said, staring at them with ill-disguised contempt in her eyes. “Broken. Corrupted.”

“Whatever your opinions of my magic may be, you still have no way of fighting us,” Haggar said. “So either cooperate, or be destroyed.”

“You can force us to do nothing,” Titania said. “We’re the greatest magical forces known. You may have power, but you are a single woman. You’ve had no one but yourself and a handful of…”

“Flunkies?” One of the younger elves suggested.

“Precisely,” Mab said. “Whereas we have had an entire planet of magic-users to twist the rules, with minds that reach back farther than your own pathetic life.”

“And of course, the planet herself,” Oberon said, smiling. “Wouldn’t want to irritate Lady Sídhe, now would we?”

“What part of imminent destruction is so difficult to understand?” Haggar snapped. “Are you a—”

A flash of light caught several eyes, and the Puck began to laugh. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“Enough,” Titania ordered, though the smile on her face was cold and wide. “I would say that is our answer.”

“The reason ‘imminent destruction’ is so difficult to understand,” Mab said. “Is that destruction is not, in fact, imminent.”

“Guess who called Voltron,” Oberon said. “Go on, guess. We’ll wait.”

“Fools,” Haggar hissed. She turned on her heel and swept towards her ship. “Enough. We made our offer. If you were so dim-witted as to reject it, then _so be it_.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Titania said, making a grasping motion with one arm and sweeping it across in front of herself. Too fast for anyone to react, brambles and branches climbed up and over the ship, covering it entirely. Nary a second later, Mab stepped forward, and ice joined the tangled mess, spiked and menacing. Neither magic so much as _touched_ the ship, as heavy as it was with iron, but they didn’t need to. They just had to make it more difficult to get in.

There was a wide, inhuman grin on every Seelie face in the crowd, and smaller, colder smirks on the Unseelie.

“I would say that’s our cue, wouldn’t you?” Oberon muttered.

Haggar turned to face them, a sneer on her face. “You think this is enough to stop me?”

“Well, you see,” Puck said, slipping down from his perch in the tree and onto the ground just behind the royals. “It might not have been… but you _gave us your name_.”

The laughter started then, high and low and everything in between, but all unnerving. Every fae in the clearing save for Puck and the royals was giggling or chuckling or outright guffawing, all aimed at the Galra contingent. After a few seconds, Oberon fell to his knees, slamming his palms to the ground and activating a force field of sorts around Haggar alone.

“Take the rest as you will!” Titania called the order to the assorted fae, and Mab nodded as they roared back in approval. “Puck…a receptacle.”

“Of course, my queens,” Puck muttered, needle-sharp teeth on full display as he too crouched to the ground with a smile.

“Enough!” Haggar barked, gathering her energy and releasing it in a blast of electricity… that bounced harmlessly off the shield.

“Stronger than she looks,” Oberon muttered, wincing.

“You threatened to take everything from us?” Mab said quietly, almost touching the shield from how closely she stood. She ignored the screaming and mad cackles that raged about her as the lesser fae tore apart Haggar’s contingent. Turning to her right, she began circling Haggar counterclockwise, magic building in her palms. “Then we shall do just that to you.”

“Everything that makes you Haggar,” Titania said, circling clockwise and adding her own power to subdue and siphon Haggar’s.

“Everything that makes you Zarkon’s right hand,” Mab added.

“Everything that makes you _you_ ,” they said together, voices rising in power as Haggar felt to her knees and screamed, clutching at her chest. “We take! Everything that has made you the person you are, we take! Your past, your future, your present all, we take!”

“We steal your everything as trophy ours, Lady Haggar, right hand of Zarkon. We steal your memories, your life, and your very self.”

**_“We steal your years.”_ **

o.o.o.o.o

_Now:_

Lance turned to look at the crystal in the center of the clearing again, and gulped, then turned to the fae royals and Puck once more.

“She gave us her name, insulted us, _threatened us_ … and so we took her years,” Mab said. “She said she would take everything from us, so we did just that to her.”

He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it, still looking at the figure at the royals’ feet.

“Speak freely,” Titania ordered. “No judgement shall come upon you for what you next say.”

“But _only_ for what you next say,” Mab warned.

Lance looked up at them, licked his lips, and then went for it. He spread his arms wide, and let his face take the surprised, exasperated, kind of lost expression he wanted it to form. “What the _actual fuck, guys?”_

 _“Blue?”_ Allura’s voice rang in his ear. _“What’s going on?”_

Puck burst into laughter, and even Mab had to cover her mouth with one hand to hide her smile. Titania and Oberon had no such compunctions.

“It is a much cleaner solution than many,” Titania said. “And it gives us such a pretty little prize, wouldn’t you say?”

“Death wasn’t enough?” Lance asked.

“Necromancy is a worry there,” Mab said. “This way, we retain some control.”

“There are few that steal from the fae when we take our precautions,” Titania reminded him. “And she is a very pretty prize indeed.”

“No power or energy to break out herself,” Puck said. “No way to communicate out other than through movement to convince others to do it for her, and even that will be unlikely as we take our own measures.”

“Overconfident,” Titania sighed. “Powerful, but overconfident. She could have done great things.”

“She did,” Mab said. “But they were terrible as well.”

“Harry Potter?” Lance asked, before he could stop himself.

Mab smiled, though the expression was gone so fast that he wasn’t sure he’d even seen it. “I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lance pursed his lips together and then sighed. “So all the things that made Haggar dangerous are in that crystal now.”

“Yes.”

“All her memories, knowledge, and… basically the last ten thousand Altean standard years… all in that crystal.”

“Something closer to ten thousand, five hundred, actually,” Oberon offered.

Lance closed his eyes and shook his head. “And when you asked us to take care of the ‘scattered rest’ or whatever, you weren’t just talking about the corpses and whatever iron-filled ships managed to land on your planet, were you?”

“She sleeps for now,” Puck said. “But she will wake soon, as she leaves Sídhe’s orbit. We’ve no use for her.”

 _“La—Blue! What the quiznak is going on?”_ Allura demanded.

Lance turned his eyes to the figure that lay at the queens’ feet and approached. “She’s…”

“Innocent,” Mab confirmed. “Boring, most likely.”

Crouching down, Lance reached out and pulled at the shoulder in front of him.

She was a _child_.

He felt a lump grow in his throat. Her facial markings were the same red he’d learned to associate with Haggar, but limited to just the small under-eye marks that he’d seen on Allura and Coran and Alfor’s AI, rather than the longer lines that the fully-aged Haggar had. Her hair was still white, but shorter and almost… feathery. Fluffy, instead of lank and hanging. Her skin wasn’t the Galra purple he’d come to expect, however, but rather a tan halfway between his own and Hunk’s. Reaching out, he pulled back her eyelid and confirmed that her eyes were a deep green, with faintly glowing pupils and white sclera; Altean eyes, rather than featureless yellow Galra ones.

And her body… were she human, Lance would have guessed that she was four years old at most.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be too much trouble to take her off your hands for you,” Lance said, faux casual. “We’re fairly good at responsibility, if I do say so myself.”

 _“Blue, you had better have a_ very _good reason for not responding,”_ Allura grumbled.

Lance hoped she’d take the excuse of ‘I had no quiznaking idea how to handle things, please don’t yell at me’ when he got up there.

“For us?” Titania questioned. “Careful, paladin. You might find that we are not keen on ones such as yourself trying to pull a debt from us.”

“We protected your planet,” Lance said. “You couldn’t have fought off those warships, any more than I could have fought Haggar one on one and actually made a victory out of it. What I am doing is not trying to pull a debt from _you_ , but making sure we don’t own one. I appreciate all you have done, and enjoy your company, and Voltron does not make a habit of calling in debts, as we do this for the good of the universe, and not for reward… but I am under no illusion that a debt to you could be disastrous. So yes: when you asked for our aid, we came, and now you ask for us to take in the child, and we will, but as far as I understand it, we owe you nothing.”

“And would you say that we owe you?” Mab asked, sounding more curious than anything.

“I wouldn’t try to make assumptions,” Lance said. “And like I said: we don’t do this for a reward. If you want to say you owe us a debt, then sure. Go ahead. Chances are that we won’t try to call it in anyway, because you are… well, intimidating.”

“You flatter us,” Mab said.

“You ramble, too,” Titania pointed out. “I remember much more interesting things for that mouth to do…”

Lance stared at her. “…I’m currently negotiating whose ward a child is going to be, so… no. Maybe when we come back down to take care of the corpses and the jet, and whatever debris came from the warships, but no. Not now.”

“You and yours owe Planet Sídhe nothing,” Titania said. “You may go.”

“We’ll call in about the rest of this,” Lance said, reaching forward and gathering the tiny Altean body into his arms. He bit his lip, considering, and then bowed. “Congratulations, Queens of the Courts. You’ve bested an enemy that terrorized the universe for millennia. May the pride of this take its place as the crowning jewel of your halls.”

“As it should,” Mab said. “Goodbye, little incubus.”

“Goodbye,” Lance said, turning around and heading for Blue. He didn’t need to follow the hinkypunks this time, not when he had his Lion to orient towards, but they led the way for him nonetheless.

 _“Blue?”_ Allura asked quietly. _“I do hope you have an explanation ready. Are you alright?”_

“I’m… things got weird.”

“ _You mentioned a child.”_

“Things got _really_ weird,” Lance said. He climbed into Blue’s mouth and made his way to the cockpit. Tiny Haggar stayed in his lap, sleeping silently. “Okay, I’m back in Blue, no one to hear me. Can you… can you put Coran on the line? I promise it’s relevant.”

 _“Alright,”_ Allura sighed. _“Coran! Lance needs you for something.”_

Lance was activating the engine and almost in the air by the time Coran got back. He took off just as the older man spoke.

_“Lance? What’s wrong?”_

“I need to ask you a kind of weird question,” Lance said. “What… what was Haggar’s name, back when you knew her?”

He exited orbit and pushed himself towards the Castle of Lions, entering his hangar within seconds.

 _“…Hanna, I believe, if she is indeed the same young woman I knew before the war,”_ Coran said, his voice subdued.

“Was she born before the Lions were made?” Lance asked.

 _“No, about a century and a half later, if I remember correctly.”_ Coran sounded very worried, and very tired. “ _Lance? What’s going on?”_

“I’ll…” Lance looked down at the little girl in his lap, who finally stirred. She was clad in little more than a grey shift, too large for her tiny body, and covered in dirt from where she’d lain on the ground. She rubbed at her eyes and sat up.

“I’ll tell you in a few minutes,” Lance decided. “I need to mute my comms really quick, and then I’ll come down and we can all talk. Can you come to the hangars?”

_“Yes.”_

“Great,” Lance said, muting his microphone and pulling off his helmet.

Baby Haggar stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Hey, there, kiddo,” Lance said. “Can you tell me your name?”

“…Hanna,” she said after a long moment. “You are wearing paladin armor.”

“Yeah, we’re inside the Blue Lion right now,” Lance said. “Can… can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?”

Hanna tilted her head, staring up past him as she thought. “There were… aliens. They looked close to Altean, but not. They said they were the queens of their planet, and there was a very angry woman in a rock, and a lot of sleeping people, and some very strange eyes. Then I fell asleep.”

Lance wondered if all Altean four-year-olds sounded this… eloquent. “And before that?”

She frowned. “I was at school. We were going to meet the paladins today. You are not the Blue Paladin I know of. She is Altean.”

Meet the paladins, which at the time would have included Zarkon. The fae had taken her down in age to the day before she had first met Zarkon. Lance guessed they probably hadn’t actually _interacted_ until much later, once Haggar had made a name for herself as a researcher or something, but…

_Everything that made her who she is._

“I am not,” Lance said. “It’s… it’s been a very long time, kiddo.”

“What do you mean?” Hanna asked.

“The Castle of Lions that you remember… how old was it?”

“One hundred and sixty-seven years since completion,” Hanna said, very clearly. “We learned about that just last week.”

Lance nodded slowly. “The Castle of Lions is currently over ten thousand, six hundred years old.”

Hanna stared at him. “…no.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, wincing. “It’s… something happened. You can’t remember any of it, but something happened, and you’re here now, instead of when you should be. When the Castle was ten thousand years old, Zarkon began to wage war on Altea, and the planet was destroyed. Only two Alteans are left, other than you.”

“…who?” Hanna asked, seemingly despite herself.

“Princess Allura, who was born long after your last memory of Altea, and Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe,” Lance said.

“The Royal Advisor?” Hanna asked, blinking at him. “What about the king?”

“Alfor died in battle, trying to defend Altea.” _Or something_. There were a lot of stories about Altea’s fall that Lance hadn’t gotten yet, and probably never would. “Most of the people you know are dead now.”

“Why did those two survive?” Hanna asked.

“Cryo-pods just as Altea fell,” Lance answered. “They slept for ten thousand years, and when the Blue Lion found her new paladin… well, she took me and four of my friends up to wake the sleeping beauties.”

Hanna blinked at him. Right. She wouldn’t get that reference.

“Do you mind if I carry you down?” Lance asked. “I’ve got little siblings, so I can promise I won’t drop you.”

“What happened to _me?”_ She asked instead. “Why am I alive when nobody else is? Why did I sleep _now_ instead of when Altea fell?”

“I… can’t tell you that,” Lance said. “Bad things, mostly. You won’t remember them. _Can’t_ remember them. The Fae Queens made sure of it.”

“But… those memories are mine.”

“You’re better off not remembering, niña,” Lance sighed. “Trust me when I say that some things? You don’t _want_ to remember. Can I pick you up now?”

Hanna looked at him for a few long moments, and then nodded slowly. She curled up against his chestplate, and felt very, very small as he stood up and headed for the stairs.

“So my moms are dead,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Lance said, because… well, he couldn’t _lie_ to a kid, right? “And all your friends, sorry.”

He walked down the ramp, a child in his arms, and looked into the eyes of all his teammates.

“…they took her years,” he finally said. “We don’t have to worry about… the witch, not anymore. But the fae asked us to look after someone. Try not to freak out too much about having a child on board. This is… Hanna.”

Lance kept his voice as steady as he could, and willed everyone to keep their fucking cool, because for all that Haggar had been an enemy, this was an innocent child that hadn’t _done_ any of that shit, and never would, now.

Mostly, they just stared, though Lance saw Shiro twitch a little. That was fair, considering what Haggar had done to him, but Lance was relieved when Shiro stifled the reaction after a moment.

Coran was the first to step forward, coming close and leaning forward to put his head on a more even height with Hanna’s. “Hello, Hanna. I’m Coran, the Royal Advisor. Do you recognize me?”

She lifted her head from where she was curled against Lance’s chest and looked at Coran. There were already wet tear tracks on her face, but she stared at Coran anyway.

“You look very old.”

“Well, I never!” Coran squawked, straightening up and playing with his mustache. “I’m in the prime of my life!”

“Didn’t Allura say that people only got the slipperies when they got old?” Pidge asked. “And I _seem_ to remember you sliding around while _exuding_ slime…”

“I’m not old!” Coran exclaimed, and Hanna let out a giggle.

Lance patted her head for a moment, smiling, and then looked up and met Allura’s eyes. There was something unreadable in them, but he let his smile fall and nodded at her. She nodded back; they’d speak later. Probably when Hanna was in bed or something.

“Alright then!” Coran said, clapping his hands. “Why don’t we get the little miss cleaned up then? I’m sure we have some children’s clothing in the Castle somewhere.”

“She can always borrow something from Pidge if there isn’t,” Hunk joked.

“Hey!”

“Do you mind if Coran holds you and helps you get cleaned up?” Lance asked Hanna quietly.

“I do not know him,” Hanna said. “Will he be there? Or can he show me how to do it, and then I can do it by myself?”

“I’m sure you’re bright enough to remember how to use the system after I show you,” Coran said. “Though you may not be quite tall enough to reach all the buttons.”

Hanna stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay.”

“Awesome,” Lance said, passing her over. “I’m pretty sure most of us need showers right about now, right?”

“And then a debriefing,” Allura said. “We’re most certainly going to need one.”

An understatement if there ever was one.

o.o.o.o.o

“So… they de-aged her,” Shiro said, leaning forward to rest his chin on his clasped hands, elbows digging into the table’s surface.

“To put it in fae terms, they stole her years,” Lance said. “Everything that ever made her _Haggar_ , they put in the crystal. I’d say it’s her soul, but it isn’t, not really. Just the potential future that came true… and now isn’t. It’s like they reached back into her past and put a cut in the timeline, and just bundled up everything since then to put in the crystal. Her memories, her powers, her body, her scars? None of that’s ever coming back, not the same way. She can relearn the magic, grow up again, earn new scars… but the only way those memories are coming back are if someone breaks that crystal.”

“Which isn’t going to happen?” Shiro asked.

“Not with the fae guarding it,” Lance said, shaking his head. “They’ve claimed her adulthood as a trophy. They won’t be letting that go if they can help it, and considering it’s the _fae_ we’re talking about…”

“So we have a child that, once upon a time, might have grown up into Haggar, one of the most dangerous and vile people in the universe,” Allura said.

“Who is currently an innocent child who just learned that her entire species is dead except for you and Coran,” Pidge pointed out. “We can’t really punish her for things her older self did, right? She doesn’t remember them, and if Lance’s timeline cutting analogy is accurate, then it never even happened, for her.”

“It’s the shooting child Hitler question,” Keith said.

“We are _not_ going to kill her,” Allura said, giving Keith a very strange look.

“No, no, it’s a… well, it’s an ethical dilemma that’s sometimes posed back on Earth to make people think about justice as a concept,” Pidge said. “If you could go back in time and shoot the child version of someone you _knew_ would grow up to become a monster, then would you do it? You’d be preventing countless atrocities, _but_ you’d be killing a child who was, at the time, completely innocent.”

Allura looked sickened. “That’s… that’s awful.”

“It’s also not our current situation,” Hunk pointed out. “This isn’t time travel. There’s no paradox. This isn’t ‘oh, if you don’t kill this person, bad things will happen.’ I mean, Lance could probably explain the actual politics better than I could, but killing one person would _not_ have prevented all that bullshit from happening, because Hitler was just one dude who happened to come into power at the right time; the rest of that was more just… political climate and—”

“Hunk,” Keith said. “The point. Get to it.”

“Right. Point is, the bad things already happened. They’re over and done with. What we _have_ is a child that’s probably going to grow up to be very, very clever, and that could probably be as good a person as anyone else if she’s raised in the right environment,” Hunk said, bringing his shoulders up by his ears. “She’s a kid. We don’t know what made Haggar the way she was, but if we can put Hanna in a safe and stable environment and keep an eye on her as she grows up, then… doesn’t that mean we can probably avoid her turning into the kind of monster that Haggar was?”

“The last thing she remembers was being in school the day they were supposed to meet the paladins,” Lance said quietly. “And the fae said they took everything that made her Haggar. My guess is that the visit inspired her to try to get into some kind of… Voltron-supporting branch of the military, and then she met Zarkon and pledged loyalty to him?”

“Something like that,” Coran sighed. “I remember her as a researcher for the Voltron Guard. She was… brilliant.”

“So a stable, safe environment,” Allura said, sitting back and rubbing the heel of her palm against her forehead. “What would happen to a parentless child normally, in your expectations?”

“Foster care,” Keith said immediately. “Well, first they’d try to find any surviving relatives, who get first pick, and if that doesn’t work, then the foster system and hopefully an adoption down the line.”

Everyone looked at him, and he shrugged. “What? I was in the system after my dad went missing and before the Garrison picked me up on scholarship. I got emancipated on a court order after I dropped out, but before that? Yeah, foster care.”

“Only living relative is Lotor,” Pidge said. “Which, uh…”

“Yeah, not happening,” Hunk said.

“Not only is it dangerous in terms of avoiding Hanna becoming Haggar again,” Shiro said, “But can you imagine how awkward it would be to raise your own parent?”

The silence was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Right.” Allura coughed. “This foster system. Would you reco—”

“ _No,_ ” Keith said, vehemently. “We’re not sticking her in a foster home. Some are great, and some _really_ aren’t, but either way, that’s _not_ going to count as reliably safe and stable.”

“We _can’t_ keep her on the Castle,” Allura muttered. “Kolivan?”

“The Blade is no place for a child,” he said. “And… I find it difficult to imagine that it would be a good idea to put her somewhere so closely connected to the war.”

“ _Everywhere’s_ connected to the war,” Hunk said.

“We want to keep her away from anything that even mentions Haggar or the Galra Empire or how the entire war went down,” Shiro said. “We want to keep her away from anyone who actually _would_ hurt her if they found out who she was, which again, everywhere hurt by the Galra.”

“And we want to keep her away from anyone who would _want_ her to become Haggar,” Allura said. “But we also cannot leave her with someone who doesn’t know who or what she is.”

“So, probably someone we know, who won’t judge her for it, will provide a stable home, will provide a safe environment, and will protect her from outside forces or influences,” Pidge listed off. “That’s… not a lot of places. Olkarion? The Balmera?”

“There are still people who are bitter in both places,” Hunk pointed out. “I mean, I love the Balmerans, but Rax sold us out the first time, remember? If they think it’s for a good cause…”

“And both populations are too tied to quintessence to remain ignorant,” Allura said. “Even I can sense who she is, when I’m close enough, and I haven’t studied quintessence as much as they have lived with theirs. It’s cleaner, to be sure, but it’s still… her.”

“Lance?” Coran spoke for the first time since commenting on what Hanna had been like when he’d known her. “You look concerned.”

“I…” Lance licked his lips, and finally looked up from the table. “I might have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk about a misleading chapter title, huh?
> 
> I can't decide if I'm amused or embarrassed that Voltron wasn't directly involved with the downfall of either of the two main villains. OCs got to both Lotor and Haggar, while Voltron does everything else. That said, if you reread through the chapters with the future in mind, there's usually a decent amount of foreshadowing.  
> (For instance? The fae 'stealing someone's years' was introduced by Nina in Chapter 28.)
> 
> All that's left now is the epilogue... and a few potential sequels. (Shhhh they're a while out.)
> 
> ONE PIECE OF WORLDBUILDING THAT I COULDN'T INCLUDE: The fae don't mess around with religious names; Hanna being a name on Altea while Hana is a name in Japan and variations on Hannah are present throughout Judeo-Christian communities? All a big coincidence. Even the fae are amused by that one.
> 
> You can... probably guess where this epilogue is going to go.


	42. Now Is the Winter of Our Discontent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the story ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get this up way, way earlier, when I could be sure that maybe people wouldn't be distracted by S3. I was hoping to get it up a good eighteen hours ago, minimum, but the epilogue ended up being about twice as long as it needed to be. That said? I still managed to finish before S3 came out, which was my goal, and it's over 10k words.
> 
> You'll notice some bookends trope, callbacks, and returns to form here. It's the epilogue, after all, and every good epilogue gives the audience a chance to remember where the story started.
> 
>  _Have fun._  
> 
> Warning: more mentions of war crimes, largely in regards to Lotor again, and someone makes a joke about Shiro's arm, but it's clear in context that the joke is made with permission, and does not make Shiro uncomfortable.
> 
> PS - The inspiration for Hanna's hair is Halle Berry as Storm in X-Men: The Last Stand. It's very fluffy and feathery, as you can see in the pictures linked below:  
> http://imgur.com/2gFMcJJ  
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/c8/f9/6e/c8f96e6633624c78fc04080bda344202.jpg  
> https://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/xmenmovies/images/9/90/Storm_01.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130812025315

“You want me to _what.”_

“Just… consider it?”

Lance knew he looked like he was perpetually wincing at the moment. He looked into the video chat as Marisol stared at him.

“Lance…”

“Listen, I _know_ it sounds weird, but you’re kind of the best choice?” Lance scratched the back of his head. “I mean, I guess I could ask Nina, but…”

“Why?” Marisol asked. “What in God’s name could have convinced you _I_ was the best choice for something like this?”

“We can’t place her on any planet that was significantly affected by the war,” Lance said. “That’s just asking for someone to recognize who she… was? I guess? And then hurt her for it.”

“Which, of the places you know, leaves Earth.”

“And the mermaid planet, but that’s…” Lance gestured vaguely. “Not an option because the environment is basically water and ice. Nice to visit. Not really suitable to live.”

“Fine, so someone on Earth,” Marisol said, crossing her arms. “And what makes me the best choice from billions of people?”

“We’re not going to drop her off with someone who doesn’t know who or what she was,” Lance said. He bit his lip, hesitating. “We… we need to make sure she’s somewhere safe and stable. Somewhere we can check in on her, with someone who knows who and what she is, so they’re aware of the dangers, and can handle them.”

“The dangers?”

“How many people do you think would try to assassinate her if they found out who she is. Was. Would have been?” Lance shook his head. “And she’s… she’s an innocent right now, of course she is, but the potential to become a monster was already fulfilled once. We need someone who can remain aware of that without treating her differently or judging her for it.”

“There are so many people who could do that, Lance.” Marisol rubbed at her temple. “I’m not… I can do safe, but stable? That’s… that’s hard. And like… the concubus lifestyle isn’t exactly ideal for single-parent childrearing.”

“Mamá did okay with you,” Lance pointed out. “And hell, you’ve done okay with being the adult sibling for me and Teo and Diana. You have the skills, and… Mari, you’re good at weird.”

She raised both eyebrows. “Weird.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Let’s pretend I don’t,” Marisol said.

“Unusual, then,” Lance said. “And as far as things go, ‘adopting the de-aged version of an alien supervillain’ is about as unusual as it gets.”

“That’s all?”

“I mean, she also just woke up to a universe where there are only two other survivors of her species, so…”

Marisol groaned, putting her head in her hands. “ _Lance_.”

“Listen, I’m not saying you _have_ to do this,” Lance said. “I’ve got some other ideas lined up. But at least consider it? Out of everyone on Earth, you and Nina are the two that are most connected to this war. You know what she did and I trust you not to judge her for it. Full awareness, but not… fear, I guess?”

“At least let me meet the girl first,” Marisol groused.

Lance stared at her expectantly. “So…”

“I’ve thought about kids before,” Marisol huffed. “You know that much yourself. But this is _really_ sudden.”

“I know, Mari. But we can’t keep her on the Castle indefinitely, and Keith vetoed the foster system immediately. And you already know the sole living relative is—”

“Lotor,” Marisol sighed. “Okay, so… I’ll talk to Nina. If I’m lucky, she’s as free as I am tonight, and can make the trip without too much trouble.”

“Call if you need to reschedule,” Lance said, and then sat back as the video winked out.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

What a situation.

o.o.o.o.o

“It’s been a while since we could do this,” Lance mumbled, snuggling as close as he could under Hunk’s chin.

Hunk, who happened to be lying on his back in his own bed while Lance sprawled atop him, just laughed and ran his fingers through Lance’s hair. “Yeah, and whose fault was that?”

Lance pouted. “Miiiine.”

“Because….”

“Because I found a pair of hot aliens that live with me and willing to sleep with me pretty much whenever?”

“Are we counting Keith as a full alien?” Hunk asked.

“Fine, one and a half hot aliens.”

“That sounds more accurate.”

“Mm,” Lance sighed and attempted to burrow closer to Hunk, which was somewhat impossible at the moment. “You’re comfy.”

“Damn straight I am,” Hunk muttered.

They lay there for a few long moments, and then Lance asked, “So, what are you gonna do about Shay, now that we don’t need to worry as much about the war?”

“I don’t know,” Hunk admitted. “It’s more than just a little long-distance, right? This is literally intergalactic.”

“Skype dates?” Lance suggested. “Or… I don’t know, I think Nina’s been trying to figure out how to tie a pair of permanent portals together between Earth and the Castle, so it’s easier for us to visit home and vice versa. Still wouldn’t be an everyday thing, but it’s probably going to be powered by Balmera crystals, so…”

“I’ll think about it,” Hunk promised.

o.o.o.o.o

Marisol stood just outside the doorway, hands tucked behind her back. She could just barely see past her brother and through the doorway.

 “Hey, Hanna?” Lance asked, poking his head into the room where the little girl sat, drawing on some papers that Pidge had provided. Pidge herself sat just a few feet away, typing away at her computer and keeping a watchful eye on the child in the meantime. Lance kept talking when both girls’ gazes flicked up to him. “My sister came by for a visit. Do you wanna meet her?”

Hanna blinked at him, and then nodded slowly. She got up from where she sat on the floor at the short table, and walked over to him. She stopped just in front of him, and seemed unperturbed when he swept her up in his arms to sit against his hip.

“Hi,” Marisol said, feeling distinctly out of place. “I’m Marisol Álvarez, Lance’s older sister.”

“I’m Hanna,” the little girl said. Deeply saturated, bright green eyes watched Marisol’s every move. “Are you also half-human?”

“No, we’re half-siblings. I’m a full-blooded succubus,” she said.

Hanna tilted her head, considering that. “Lance said that your an… _ancestors_ were a kind of monster of the afterlife.”

Marisol shot Lance a look, but only got a shrug in return.

“It’s how the word ‘demon’ translates to Altean, since they apparently don’t have a comparative concept,” Lance told her.

“Mar…” Hanna trailed off, frowning. “I forgot your name.”

“Marisol,” she said. “But you can call me Mari, if you want.”

“Mari,” Hanna said, and nodded. “Why are you here?”

Marisol bit her lip, trying to figure out how to answer that. Kids could tell when an adult was lying to them, usually, and whether the girl ended up with her or not, Hanna and Marisol would probably be seeing a lot of each other in the future.

“I’m connected to the war through my brother,” Marisol finally said. “Something big happened recently, involving the fae, and since I’m one of Lance’s major connections to one of their more powerful members, he wanted me here.”

Hanna frowned. “Is that all?”

“No,” Marisol said. “But I can’t tell you everything. Classified information, like any war.”

Hanna stared at her, and then nodded. “Okay.”

“I do have some free time right now,” Marisol said, leaning forward a little to look Hanna in the eyes. “Wanna hang out? I can teach you how to play cat’s cradle.”

Hanna tilted her head to the side. “What’s that?”

“A game I’ve played with plenty of little kids over the years,” Marisol said. “Trust me, it’s interesting.”

Hanna looked up at Lance, who gave her an encouraging grin, and then she faced Marisol and nodded again.

“Espero que conoces que estás haciendo,” Marisol muttered to Lance as she took Hanna and balanced the girl on her own hip. “¿Estás seguro acerca de esto?”

“Solo podemos intentar,” Lance replied. “Have fun!”

Marisol glanced down at the kid she was holding.

“You were speaking another language,” Hanna said. “How many do you know?”

“…six?” Marisol guessed. “Depends on how we’re counting. I’m fluent in a few, conversational in others, can struggle my way through a text with a dictionary on hand in a few others…so let’s just go with six that I’m intermediate to fluent in.”

“That’s a lot.”

“I’ve had fifty-seven years to learn,” Marisol said. “Well, almost. I’m an October baby, so…”

“What’s October?”

“Well,” Marisol said, starting to walk towards the rec center. “It’s a month. See, a year on Earth is longer than one on Altea, so we split each year up into twelve roughly equal sections called a month. Most months are either thirty or thirty-one days long, though February is only twenty-eight, and every four years, February is twenty-nine days instead, to compensate for the fact that a year on Earth is technically three hundred and sixty-five and one- _quarter_ days, instead of three hundred and sixty-five exactly.”

Hanna bit her lip, thinking that over for a moment. “How… how long is a day on… Earth?”

“Well,” Marisol said, rolling around the time in her head. “I think ticks and seconds are pretty similar, but ticks are a bit longer. One minute is sixty seconds, but forty ticks. With me so far?”

“Forty ticks to a minute,” Hanna said, nodding.

“Sixty minutes is an hour, and there are twenty-four hours in a day, and seven days in a week,” Marisol said, watching as Hanna’s face scrunched up. She laughed. “Yeah, it’s a bit weird, kiddo.”

“Why?” Hanna asked. “Why so many different numbers?”

“I think the sixty pattern came from… Mesopotamia? I know someone used a base-sixty system, but… oh! Sumer, and then Babylon. I think Ancient Egypt is why we got twenty-four hours. Um… I know the Romans were responsible for the months, or at least two of them; it used to be ten, but then July and August got added by a Roman Emperor who was _really_ self-absorbed. And the seven days is… I think it’s the Babylonians again, and it’s because seven is an important number in a lot of cultures on Earth.” Marisol frowned.

Hanna stared at her.

“Something wrong?”

“How many cultures are there on your planet?”

“…depends on your definition of a culture? And are we counting ones that died out?” Marisol shrugged. “I’d go with hundreds as a base number. I mean, there’s almost seven _thousand_ languages alone, depending on how you classify a distinct language versus a dialect. Granted, most of them aren’t used by more than ten or twenty thousand people, and over ninety percent of the planet speaks one of about… four hundred? Like, there are nine or ten languages _alone_ that have over a hundred million first-language speakers…”

“That’s a lot of languages.”

“It is.”

“How many _people_ are there?” Hanna asked, looking appalled.

“…nine or ten billion?” Marisol said. “I haven’t checked the census in a while. I’m guessing Altea had less?”

“… _Lots_ less,” Hanna whispered. “How do you fit so many people there?”

“I mean, probably the same way Altea did. This castle can fit over a thousand people, right? Once you start running out of space, or want things to be closer together, you start building _up_ instead of out.” Marisol shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, we still have an overpopulation problem, but it’s manageable for now, especially we’ve started terraforming some nearby moons and planets and moving outwards there too.”

They made it to the rec center. “So, want to learn how to play cat’s cradle?”

o.o.o.o.o

Allura grabbed Lance by the wrist as he passed by her room, pulling him in.

“Whoa, okay, hi?” Lance stared at her. “Uh, your eyes are all… intense-looking. Is everything okay?”

“Were you on your way somewhere?” Allura asked.

“Nowhere important,” Lance said, deciding that bothering Nina about some possible lesson plans for Pidge could wait. “Why?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah, of co—mmph.”

She kissed him before he could finish, mouth pressed to his almost hard enough to bruise, and her hands gripping his shirt so tightly that he was surprised it didn’t tear.

He pulled back after a few moments, putting his hands on her shoulders to push her away. “Seriously, is everything okay?”

She opened her mouth and closed it a few times, and then leaned forward to press her forehead to his shoulder. His hands came up to rest on her back and smooth over her hair almost immediately. She breathed deeply, and then again, and finally sighed out, long and slow.

“Allura?”

“We’re so _close_ ,” she whispered, shuddering.

“There’s still a lot of work to do,” Lance reminded her.

“Zarkon in a coma, Lotor in our prisons, and Haggar… nullified. We’ve gutted the Galra command system time and again. They’re close to total collapse, and we can either take advantage of the chaos to chase them back from their borders, or possibly even turn Lotor to our side, given time, at which point he can maybe control it in a way that leaves as few dead as possible. With the truth seals, we can even make sure he’s telling the truth when we ask him where Zarkon is.”

“To assassinate a guy in a coma,” Lance said dubiously.

“To assassinate a _war criminal_ who has terrorized the universe for ten millennia and proven dangerous enough physically that any chance of him waking up is putting trillions of lives at risk,” Allura snapped, pulling back.

“Killing the injured is a war crime itself,” Lance said.

“It’s _Zarkon_ ,” Allura said. “He… he’s killed entire _systems,_ Lance. We can’t just risk that he’ll wake up.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Lance said, squeezing Allura’s shoulders. “Is that what’s bothering you? The fact that killing Zarkon while he’s in a coma like this is more of an ethical mess than just killing him in a fight?”

Allura blinked and looked down, her hands squeezing into fists. “Never mind.”

She spun on her heel and headed for her bed.

“Whoa, hey, wait,” Lance jogged after her. “I want to help, Allura. C’mon, talk to me.”

He hesitated, then took a seat next to her and laced his fingers through hers, palms pressed together.

“I trusted him once,” Allura said, the words almost clumsy in the air. Lance pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin as he hugged her. “I did. He was a friend of my father’s, Black Paladin, King of an allied planet… and then all that was destroyed at once. There’s a part of me that still cries out in confusion whenever I remember what he’s done. There’s a part of me that looks at Hanna and wonders if something similar could work on Zarkon. But most of me knows that he _cannot_ be allowed to survive. Haggar’s situation is under control by the fae; there’s little chance that anyone will figure out what happened to her, simply assuming that they were powerful enough to kill her. Lotor isn’t as powerful as either of his parents, and is more malleable as well; Hunk’s been saying that he’s been more enthused about engaging in philosophical debates recently, as opposed to simply putting everything down as he had at first. Moreover, I can trust Nina’s spells to work on him. I can’t… I can’t imagine them working on Zarkon.”

“I mean, it’s a coma…” Lance muttered. “If we’re lucky, he’ll just die on his own soon. They’ll pull the plug as soon as he goes brain dead.”

“We’re not that lucky,” Allura said, spite in every word.

“I mean, that’s… true…” Lance trailed off, eyes wide as he stared at the wall.

“Lance?” Allura asked, pulling away to look him in the eye. “What is it?”

“I… might have a solution?” He hazarded. “If we can secure his body, then we don’t need to _kill_ him, necessarily… at least, not directly? It would be really tricky, though. A little morally dubious, especially from the perspective of the Far Right. Um…”

“Lance, just give me the suggestion.”

“What if I talk to a true demon and get Zarkon sent to Hell?” Lance blurted out. “I mean, I’d probably have to have Mamá or Marisol do the talking, but… there are definitely high-ranking demons that would be glad to get their hands on a soul like his. The soul-selling kinds of demons, not my weirdo hybrid kind.”

“…that’s not a good solution.”

“Oooooooooooor we could talk to Dionysus and see if there are still any Galra gods around that are pissed about Zarkon stamping out religion for a few thousand years?” Lance suggested. “C’mon, there’s gotta be somebody up there that’s less than happy with grandpa space turtle.”

“No,” Allura said, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Mortal solutions only, then? Lame,” Lance sighed. “I mean, we could always look into what powers his immortality and just take _that_ away.”

“I assumed it was his connection to the Black Lion, at first,” Allura admitted. “They lengthen the lifespans of the shorter-lived paladins. But with the strength of Shiro’s bond now, I find it hard to believe that Black’s quintessence is still the culprit behind Zarkon’s longevity.”

“…wait, scroll back. The lions make our lives longer?” Lance asked. “Since when? What? How?”

“Quintessence,” Allura said. “And… I didn’t bring it up because I had no idea if it _would_ work, and I was hoping to end the war quickly enough that you could all go home without _needing_ to experience those properties. Eventually, with everything else…”

“Yeah?”

“I, ah, may have forgotten that I hadn’t told you,” Allura admitted. “And then just kept hoping that the lions had told you themselves.”

Lance stared at her, and then shook his head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Enough unnecessary secrets, Princess.”

“It was embarrassing to admit I’d forgotten,” Allura mumbled.

“Maybe tell the others soon?” Lance said. “This is big. For them, I mean. I already have a ridiculously long lifespan.”

“Still a little short by Altean standards,” Allura reminded him.

“Well, whatever,” Lance said, as though that were actually a good comeback. “More to the point… we could bring Nina along when we finally do find Zarkon? If anyone can figure out how he’s powering that immortality, she can.”

“It’s a working plan,” Allura sighed, staring down at their linked hands and rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “I… could very much use a distraction right now. If you’re amenable.”

“…sex?” Lance asked, just to be sure.

“And then cuddles,” Allura said.

“I can work with that.”

(Lance was glad Allura’s rooms had a nice en suite bathroom, and that he’d left spare changes of clothing in her room after the second time they’d slept together. It meant he didn’t have to deal with _too_ much awkwardness when it was inevitably time to leave.)

o.o.o.o.o

“You’re good with her.”

Marisol looked up from her phone to Shiro, and then out at where Hanna was sitting on a stool, Lance’s hand carefully resting on her back in case she slipped. Both were watching Hunk cook. She looked back at Shiro.

“That’s bull.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “And I know you dropped hints that you don’t want to take her in, and I’m sure not going to be the one to force you to do it, but if all that’s bothering you is whether you’d be good at it, then, as a father myself? I’m going to go ahead and tell you right here and now that you’re good with her.”

“I just… talked,” Marisol said, making a face. “Taught her some kid’s games from Earth. Just… stuff I’d do with Teo and Diana, mostly.”

“And Lance already told me that you’re pretty involved in raising your half-siblings, him included,” Shiro pointed out. “Still definitely a sibling, and not a parent, but you have the experience.”

Marisol pursed her lips. “That’s not… that’s not the problem.”

“Talk me through it?” Shiro asked.

“I’ve thought about children before,” Marisol admitted. “Not much, because I’m stuck in my mid-twenties, and even Mamá waited until she was past a hundred before she had me. But not only do I not know if I’m ready, but my lifestyle is _way_ not suitable to raising a kid right now.”

“In what way?” Shiro prompted.

“I work two jobs, for one, and don’t have a partner to share the burden of time,” Marisol said, looking down at her hands and fiddling with her phone. “I’m kind of a party animal when I feel the urge. I don’t come home some nights, because I _do_ have a night job, and that night job leads into feedings, and that means sleeping at a one-night-stand’s place pretty often. I have hobbies that take up a lot of time, and I _could_ cut back on those, but they’re what connects me to a lot of my social circle. It’s mostly the whole… feeding thing, though. I don’t have human partners to take on the weight like Mamá did with Lance and the brats.”

“You have a family, though.”

Marisol looked over at him, catching on to something almost wistful in his tone. “I mean, yeah, but…”

“I was a little over a year out from graduating from the Garrison when Emiko was born,” Shiro told her. “And seeing as your little brother is _Lance_ , I’d say you probably know what kind of environment that is. I didn’t have a lot of free time, especially since I was the rising star, or whatever they were calling me that week. I had to study, I had to practice, go to classes, do homework, chores, network… so many things. But I had my grandparents. My grandmother was still working as a teacher, even if my grandfather had retired after a lifetime of military service to do wood-working.”

“I don’t think I’ve met your grandfather,” Marisol said with a small smile.

“My point is that they were there when I couldn’t be,” Shiro said, poking Marisol in the shoulder. “You’ve got a big family and plenty of friends. One of your jobs is at a university, right? You can match that up with pre-school hours or something, since she’s about that age. You don’t need to feed more than twice a week, if I remember it correctly, so you can probably schedule two feedings a week after your night job, and ask your family to look after her those nights. Or all nights that you have work, really; she’d just be staying longer on the feeding nights. She’s not much younger than Teo and Diana, so it can be like twice-weekly sleepovers, right?”

Marisol looked down at her hands again. “I think I’d need to move out.”

“Can you afford it?” Shiro asked, sounding genuinely curious instead of judgmental.

“Yeah, I could,” Marisol said, nodding. “But it’s been a long time since I lived alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone, would you?” Shiro asked, jerking his chin at where Hanna was going cross-eyed to stare at the mark that a guffawing Lance had left on her nose.

“I don’t know,” Marisol whispered, crossing her arms and curling in on herself.

“You wanna take this somewhere else?” Shiro asked. He followed sedately behind her when Marisol turned and headed for the hallway.

She put her back to the wall and slid down.

“Did I overstep a boundary?” Shiro asked, sitting down next to him. Belatedly, she noticed a mug of pale coffee in his human hand.

“No, I just…” Marisol took in a deep breath, and sighed out again. “It’s all moving too fast.”

Shiro made an acknowledging noise, but didn’t comment.

“The thing is that I don’t… I don’t know if I’m ready,” Marisol said. “I have the skills. I have the support. I have the resources. But as a person? I don’t know if I’m ready to sacrifice so much of my time, energy, and resources for another person. Because having a child isn’t a hobby, it’s…”

“It’s everything,” Shiro said, nodding. He pushed his shoulder up against hers, and patted her back with his metal arm when she leaned forward to bury her face in her hands and groan.

“The thing is that I think _could_ do it. I could probably be a good parent. I could probably handle a kid, even if I have no idea what I’m doing with someone as… quiet and smart and _alien_ as her. But it’s all going so fast that I have no idea if I’m still going to be as okay with the idea in a week as I am right now.”

“If it helps,” Shiro said slowly, “We do have some time before we need to get to work again. We did some major operations a few months ago that got rid of some of the highest-ranking generals in the Galra army, and we’ve done some cleaning-up every now and then since we did that, so now that Lotor, Haggar, _and_ Zarkon are all out of the picture in one way or another… well. They’re disorganized, and there’s infighting. It’ll be a while before they can mount a serious attack, so we’ve got at least a few days, maybe a week, of leeway before we _really_ want to make sure she’s not on the ship anymore. We’ll still be running missions ourselves, but we’re not on the defensive.”

“I know, but—”

“Whaaaaaaat are you doing out here?”

Marisol looked up. “Hey, Holt.”

“Ooooh, last names? What did I do wrong?” Matt asked, sitting down on Shiro’s other side.

“Nothing, I just have more fun saying Holt than I do Matt,” Marisol said. “Or Željko.”

Matt made a face. “No.”

“Don’t want me calling you that?”

“Please don’t say my middle name. It’s like… eight hundred percent unnerving.”

“Eight hundred, huh. Wow.”

“My math is airtight.”

Shiro sighed heavily and took a long sip of his coffee, pulling giggles from both Matt and Marisol. “I’m too old for this.”

“Uh, no. No, you don’t get to say that,” Marisol said. “Not when I’m over _twice_ your age.”

“Thought you said you got stalled out at your mid-twenties,” Shiro said, taking another long sip of his coffee. “Or does that not count?”

“It doesn’t when you’re _also_ in your mid-twenties and complaining about being old,” Marisol told him.

“I’m going to _look_ older than you soon,” Shiro pointed out.

“You already do,” Matt told him. “White hair, bags under your eyes, creaky joints…”

He reached across Shiro’s lap to grab the metal arm and bend the elbow back and forth a little, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Shiro stared back, unimpressed.

“You said I could make jokes about the arm,” Matt reminded him. “So we’d both be more casual and comfortable with it.”

“Yes, but that was worse than a pun.”

“He’s made _puns_ about it?” Marisol asked, delighted.

“Not yet,” Matt said, with the air of a man who had plans to change that in the near future. He settled back against the wall. “So, what were you two talking about before I got here?”

Marisol’s smile fell, and she looked back down at the ground.

“Marisol’s not sure if she’s ready to adopt,” Shiro said.

“You can just call me Mari, you know,” she muttered.

Matt tapped his chin. “Yeah, I can see why that would be a hard decision to make with only a day or so to process. At least she likes you?”

“Tolerates,” Marisol corrected.

“Nah, she definitely likes you,” Matt said. “You’ve only been here a few hours, but she likes Lance, Coran, Pidge, and Hunk. Keith isn’t much of a people person in general, and Allura’s so busy doing princess stuff that she and Hanna just kind of stare awkwardly at each other whenever they run into each other.”

“Allura is… not entirely sure how to approach Hanna,” Shiro said.

“And she’s realized that Shiro gets uncomfortable whenever she’s nearby, so she’s not his biggest fan either,” Matt continued.

“It’s getting better,” Shiro defended.

“And she didn’t even talk when Kolivan was in the room, just stared at him for a while and then hid behind Pidge,” Matt finished. “So we’ve gotten _some_ idea of what she looks and acts like when she does or doesn’t like someone, and you’re on the side she likes.”

“Are you?” Marisol asked.

“I think she just thinks I’m weird,” Matt said. “Which is fair; I think I’m a little weird, too.”

“You know,” Shiro said, looking at the inside of his empty mug, the sides coated in coffee dregs. “For all the shit that’s happened in this war… I’m glad the younger paladins avoided the worst of it.”

 Marisol considered that, and then sighed and nodded. “Yeah. These aren’t exactly the trenches.”

“Right?” Shiro said, actually smiling. “I mean, there have been terrible things, and injuries, and we haven’t always won… but we made out okay, I think. At least, they did. Minimum of PTSD, at least.”

Matt took Shiro’s human hand, removing the mug and lacing his own fingers through Shiro’s. “You’re such a _hero_.”

“We lived through a comedy,” Marisol said, deciding she might as well join in on the fun and take Shiro’s other hand.

“We got lucky,” he said. “We’ve seen… a lot of places, honestly, that live up to the reputation of ‘War is hell.’ Matt and I _lived_ through some of those places. Altea burned. The paladins, though… god, I can’t go a day without thinking of how much worse it could have been.”

Matt made a face, probably recalling his time in those mining camps.

“Would it help if I told you that war is actually worse than hell?” Marisol offered, squeezing Shiro’s metal hand and hoping he could feel it.

He took a moment to process the joke, and then snorted. Matt got it a second later.

“Honestly, it does,” Shiro said. “I just… it’s going to take so much time to fix everything. Reparations, once we finally get the Galra to surrender, or get Lotor to cooperate and reinstate him so he can start dismantling the Empire in a way that _doesn’t_ lead to widespread chaos. Reestablishing trade routes that were destroyed, handling refugees, seeing if anything can be done with planets drained of their natural resources like the Balmera…”

“And here I am complaining about not knowing if I’m ready to be a mom,” Marisol muttered.

“Hey, that’s a big decision to make,” Matt said, leaning around Shiro to frown at her. “Sure, it’s not affecting the same number of people as our problems are, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a significant problem to _you_.”

“He’s right,” Shiro said, when Marisol’s eyes flickered to him. He made a ‘what can you do’ expression and shrugged again, raising his arms to complete the image.

Marisol huffed and let her head fall to the side to rest against Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m simultaneously too young and too old for this.”

“There, there,” Matt said mockingly, reaching over to pat her on the head. “I’m sure you’ll figure something o—hey!”

Marisol pulled back from where she’d snapped at his hand, grinning with her fangs on full display as Matt pouted exaggeratedly at her.

“You’re both terrible,” Shiro announced, though he didn’t seem to mind when they both decided that putting their heads on his shoulders was the best choice of position.

o.o.o.o.o

“You know,” Pidge said, almost conversationally. “We got your mom.”

Lotor’s eyes flicked up from the book he’d been given. They couldn’t trust him with technology, not really, so they’d left him with books, mostly on ethics, admittedly, along with some YA Lit that Allura had greenlit as innocuous enough to not give Lotor any ideas, and a sketchpad and pencil, useless in the strategic sense, since he had no access to his magic, and no way to contact the Galra Empire. Granted, there was always a chance that he had, like… a robot eye that was transmitting everything to a distant location, but Altean technology and Earth’s magic had blocked off all known methods of communication, which would have to be enough.

“She’s dead then?” Lotor asked, voice quiet and deceptively calm. “Or have you locked her up as well?”

“Not quite,” Pidge said, with a humorless grin.

Lotor waited, and when Pidge didn’t continue, turned back to his book. “If you’re simply going to make a nuisance of yourself, then I’m not going to respond. Your friend is much more interesting to speak with.”

“Yeah, well, according to Hunk, you were kind of a douchebag yesterday, so…” Pidge shrugged. “You get to deal with me instead, and I’m way more of an asshole than Hunk is.”

Lotor blinked at her. “Clearly.”

“So, do you wanna know what happened to Haggar?” Pidge asked, taking her seat and kicking her legs back and forth. “It’s a doozy.”

“You seem insistent on telling me, so I don’t suppose I have a choice,” Lotor sighed, marking his place and putting the book aside.

“I’d have thought you’d be more interested. You seemed close to her,” Pidge commented.

“I have no way of confirming your information, and you seem dedicated to needling me,” Lotor said. “I’d prefer to avoid reacting if I can.”

“Hoping to get out on good behavior?” Pidge joked, but then let her smile fall and eyed Lotor. “Still… like mother, like son, I guess.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you messed up in exactly the same way,” Pidge said flatly. “You both went into a situation assuming you were the strongest, cleverest person in the room, but didn’t do the research to make sure that was actually true. Considering you’ve usually been the strongest people in any given room except for Zarkon himself for the past ten thousand years, I can understand _why_ you assumed that, but like… too much confidence becomes arrogance. Too much self-assurance leaves you blind to actual threats.”

“What are you trying to say, paladin?” Lotor asked. “That my mother made the same mistake I did?”

“Not quite the same one,” Pidge said, making a face. “Her mistake wasn’t accepting an offer that was clearly a trap, but more like… _draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.”_

 “I can’t say I understand that,” Lotor said. “It isn’t translating.”

“It’s Latin. ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon.’ Basically,” Pidge said, and tilted her head. “Don’t mess with dangerous things when they’re already ignoring you and thus safe. Don’t antagonize something bigger than you just because you think you’re going to get away clean. In this case…”

“Wh—”

“ _Don’t fuck with the fae_ ,” Pidge spat out, impatience winning out over drama. “Dude, she tried to threaten the _fae_. And she did it _in person_. She could have gotten away with it if she’d just stayed up on her warship and drained their quintessence, but no, she went down there to _talk to them face to face_. She poked the sleeping dragon. Repeatedly. And the dragon did as any sleeping thing being poked awake by an annoyance does, and ate her. Metaphorically.”

“Metaphorically,” Lotor repeated, stiff.

“They took her years,” Pidge said.

“They… what?” Lotor’s brow furrowed. “What is that supposed mean?”

“They de-aged her. Took her body and mind down to early childhood, removing any trace of power and memory she’d had as an adult. Almost ten thousand, five hundred years of memories, bundled up and taken away, leaving a tiny little Altean girl who’s just been told her planet was destroyed thousands of years ago, for a war she doesn’t understand, leaving everyone she’d known and loved dead.”

Lotor stared at Pidge.

“She doesn’t remember you,” Pidge told him, with not a little bit of relish. Part of her felt guilty for the look of dawning horror on Lotor’s face, but most of her was sure he deserved it. “She doesn’t remember anything past the age of like… four or five. The woman you knew and, presumably, loved? Gone. Utterly gone. And unless you play very, very nice with us, you’re probably never get to see her again, even like that.”

SLAM

Pidge didn’t flinch when Lotor surged across the cell and slammed his fist down on the force field, ineffectual but nonetheless dramatic. She blinked in fake boredom as he leaned down, forearm still pressed along the force field above his head, and hissed at her.

“We’re playing it safe,” Pidge said, after it became clear that Lotor had no intention of actually saying anything. “We’re putting her somewhere safe and stable to be raised. A good home, with people we know and can trust to be good to her, even knowing who she was. _Hanna_ is going to be fine. But, well, it would just be _awkward_ to introduce you two, especially now. Who wants to tell a little girl that the war criminal she sees is her son from a future she hasn’t lived?”

Pidge clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“What are you trying to get out of this?” Lotor demanded, his voice a low susurrus. “What do you _want_ , paladin?”

“Cooperation in the long-term,” Pidge said. “Exactly what we’ve _been_ wanting. As much as we don’t like you, we’re not fans of execution or the death penalty, and as much as we hate to admit it, you could be useful. You’re the only major figure in the Galra army that’s _left_. Your parents have been rendered null and void, and we’ve been regularly focusing on negating the power and influence of whatever newest generals get appointed. There’s still some influential people; some commanders, a few Druids, probably some merchants… but ultimately, you’re the symbol they’ll be desperate to get back. The symbol they want and need. The ruler they want and need, and they’ll listen no matter what you want. Not all of them, sure, but enough that dismantling the Empire _with_ your cooperation will result in a lower body count than if we just fight the Empire back. Form a republic, regulate the economies a little as the Empire withdraws, and so on. Work with us, and we’ll be able to set up supervised visits once she’s old enough to understand what it is that happened to her. Keep arguing, and we won’t be so nice.”

Lotor stared at her, then turned on his heel and stalked back over to his cot, sitting down heavily. “So, that’s your ploy. You’ll blackmail me with the threat of never seeing her again.”

“No, we’re _bribing_ you with the option of _maybe_ seeing her again,” Pidge said, no room for give in her tone. “The default is keeping her far away from you, because you are a _war criminal_ and a bad fucking influence. We’re playing nice, Lotor. Don’t tempt us to stop.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Pidge sitting with her arms and legs crossed, and Lotor watching with pursed lips.

“…let me speak with Princess Allura.”

o.o.o.o.o

Coran looked down and away from his control panel as he felt something tug on his pant leg.

“Hello, Hanna,” he said, reaching down to pick her up. She clung close when he did so, and he started walking around the room with her. A wave of his hand shut down the console, and he bounced her lightly as he walked. “What are you doing here?”

“The humans are loud,” she said, barely audible. “It’s too much.”

“You’re used to a much quieter household, aren’t you?” Coran asked.

“I can work with loud people,” Hanna said. “My class at school is loud. But home was quiet.”

“Too much of one or the other can be irritating, can’t it?” Coran said, humming a little. “Have you had lunch yet?”

She shook her head.

“Well, let’s get on that, then. I’m sure we could rustle up some food goo for you.”

Hanna nodded.

She stayed quiet until they made it to the kitchen, at which point she took a seat on one of the stools, and Coran grabbed a pair of bowls to make some food.

“Why can I not eat the human’s food?” Hanna asked.

“Much of what they eat isn’t something Alteans can digest,” Coran said. “They are omnivorous, and there is plenty of meat in their meals, along with certain spices and other ingredients that are outright poisonous to us.”

Hanna pouted, which pulled a grin from Coran. She slumped forward across the countertop, watching him silently.

“Something wrong?”

“The others said that Hunk and his family make very good food, but they aren’t sure if it’s safe for me,” Hanna said, sitting up as a bowl of food goo was put in front of her. “I don’t mind goo, but I want more… um… difference?”

“Variety,” Coran suggested, watching to make sure she actually started eating as he took a spot next to her. “And yes, I can see the appeal. If it helps, I am building a scanner for you, so you or whoever takes you in can simply check if individual ingredients or whole meals are safe.”

The clinking of Hanna’s spoon stopped.

“…takes me in?” Hanna asked, her voice very small.

“Well, yes,” Coran said.

“You’re sending me away,” Hanna mumbled, and then looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Did I do something wrong? Or…”

“Oh, child,” Coran sighed. He picked her up and pulled her into his lap, hugging her close with one arm and smoothing her hair with the other. “You are very young. You deserve to be someplace safe. For all that the Castle is well-protected, it is still a warship. We are soldiers, and we still fight this war, even if we’ve most likely fought our hardest battles already. It isn’t good for you to be here. You could easily get hurt.”

“But you’re all that’s _left_ ,” Hanna said. “They don’t talk about it, but you and the Princess are the only Alteans left. I don’t… I can’t go away. I can’t leave.”

“You must,” Coran told her. “It’s not safe here for a child. You can visit, or call, but this Castle is not a home for children. It is a soldiers’ barracks, a moving fortress, a superweapon. It’s a war machine, not a nursery. You aren’t safe here.”

“…where?”

“Earth,” Coran said. “The war didn’t reach the current paladins’ home planet, so you will most likely be living with one of their families or friends. We’re still trying to work out who.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know, but there… isn’t really any other choice.”

Hanna sniffled a little, curling up against his chest, and Coran hummed and rubbed her back until she started crying, and then kept at it until she’d tired herself out.

“Feeling better?” Coran asked.

She shrugged.

“Well, that’s to be expected. In my experience, we all need a good cry now and again. Now let’s see if we can’t get some food in you,” Coran said, pulling Hanna’s bowl close.

o.o.o.o.o

“GRAGH!” Keith shouted wordlessly as he stabbed through the head of the gladiator, then stepped back and yanked the sword out, huffing as the floor opened up to swallow the bot.

 _Stab, don’t slash,_ Shiro had said. _Your bayard’s sword form has an H-shaped handle, which means that if you slash too much, you’re liable to injure your wrist in ways that a normal handle wouldn’t. Your Galra genes protect you from that somewhat, but not entirely, so you should still focus on stabbing over slashing._

Well, his wrist _did_ hurt less since he’d tried that, and the Blade had been teaching him actual forms for a while now, so that had made things go even more smoothly.

“Better.”

Keith stood up, turning to see Shiro standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s better than your last time,” Shiro said, pushing away from the wall and walking over. “Feel like tag-teaming the next level up?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, pulling his shirt up to wipe off some sweat before getting back into a ready stance. “Let’s do this.”

Some things rarely changed.

o.o.o.o.o

“Can most Earthlings do that?”

Marisol looked up from her split, where she’d been leaning forwards to the point of her nose almost brushing the ground. The only reason it hadn’t was that Marisol didn’t want her face on the floor, because that was gross. Hanna had come in unnoticed, her footsteps covered by the soft music, and was sitting on the floor in front of Marisol, hugging her knees.

“Most are capable of it if given the right training,” Marisol said, levering herself up to a sitting position. “But most people don’t bother with that training.”

Hanna blinked. “Why did you?”

“I like dancing, and flexibility is pretty important for a lot of styles,” Marisol said, standing up. She brought one leg up to vertical, shifting as she kept her balance. After a moment, she moved a little and tipped forward to enter a handstand with her legs in a single horizontal line above her, and then finished the front walk-over, dusting her hands off as she stood up.

Wide green eyes met hers.

“Ta-da?”

Hanna stood up and looked down at her own feet. “Can _I_ do that?”

“Well… maybe let’s try starting with touching your toes first.”

o.o.o.o.o

Kolivan looked in on the room that Hanna had been given for her short stay in the Castle, on his way back from a check-in with the Marmora guards currently on duty at Lotor’s cell, and frowned.

The little Altean girl didn’t look like she’d once been the most dangerous person in the universe. She didn’t look or act like what Kolivan might have imagined a younger Haggar to act like. But that, he supposed, was the nature of children, in that they were all innocent and inherently good, until the world dealt them a poor hand or molded them into a shape that nobody would recognize once they grew older.

Still, it was the nature of children to do things that were strange to adults, and that was the situation now.

“What are you doing, child?”

Hanna looked up, meeting Kolivan’s eyes in the reflection of the floor-length mirror that she was sitting in front of, and then went back to staring at her own reflection.

“Nothing.”

“I have lived many years, child, and I would say that no one is ever doing _nothing_ ,” Kolivan said as he lowered himself to the ground, sitting behind her. “Particularly not when they have a look of such concentration on their face.”

“Hm.”

He moved to the side after a moment, and nodded internally as some of the tension disappeared from her shoulders.

It wasn’t long until he realized what she was doing.

“Now, why are you trying to change your ears?” He asked.

Hanna met his eyes in the mirror, and then went back to looking in the mirror. “Coran said that I would be going to live on Earth. The humans’ planet. The look like Alteans, but their ears are different, and they don’t have these.”

She tapped her facial markings.

“I don’t think you need to worry about those very much,” Kolivan said. “Markings upon the skin like that are apparently common on their planet. Tattoos, I think they called them. And… they have decorative paints for their faces as well, which could be used to cover them, if you truly wanted to pass as human while there.”

Hanna met his eyes again.

“I’m also assured that hats are acceptable,” Kolivan said drily. “As are magical disguises.”

Hanna tilted her head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You are expending significant effort for something that may not be necessary,” Kolivan said. “Moreover, you are likely to live in a magical community, which means that you may not need to pretend to be human at all.”

She stared at him.

“What is it, child?”

“Why do you care?”

“If I could tell you something in regards to your current efforts, it would be this: do not be so eager to deny who you are and where you came from,” Kolivan said, standing up and trying not to wince as his bad knee creaked. “You’ll find that, years down the road, you may wish you had clung harder to the culture that bore you. I do not expect that you will _need_ to hide who you are.”

“I’m not…” Hanna looked at the ground. “I’m not trying to hide who I am. I would just like to… Alteans were diplomats. That’s what my teachers said. And part of that was shapeshifting to look more like the local species and make them more comfortable. If the humans don’t know about other species from other planets, then I should try to look like them, or they might be scared or something, right?”

“You are a child,” Kolivan said. “A child with some very, very scary protectors. I cannot imagine that many people will be scared of _you_ , though whoever raises you is likely to be very scary in their own right.”

“So…”

“Stop trying to change yourself until you see a good reason to do so,” Kolivan advised. “And if people do not accept you for yourself, then you are better off without them, and they do not deserve your company.”

o.o.o.o.o

Allura stood at the doorway to the observatory, staring at Nina’s back. The woman was leaning against a railing, eyes on the stars outside. Allura couldn’t see her face, and so for a moment, it was almost like she was seeing a magic-user from back home; white hair tended to accompany those with the most powerful magics on Altea, and Nina’s age had given her some very pale hair indeed.

“I was hoping to speak with you,” Allura said.

Nina turned around, and the illusion was broken. “Ah, Princess. Hey. What’s up?”

“I’ve been considering something recently,” Allura said, coming to stand next to her and keeping her gaze focused on the windows. “Altea is… well, no more. We cannot trust the Druids, and I am wary of treating with the fae too often. But we require some level of magical help, I feel, or could use it. The situation with Lotor has proven that. He’d have been much harder to imprison without your help.”

“That’s pretty true,” Nina said, nodding. “So…”

“Ideally, I would like to hire you on as a permanent… employee?” Allura sighed. “But I find it unlikely that you would choose to leave your life on Earth.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Nina said with a snort. She crossed her arms, leaning against the railing.

“I figured. However, I would like to see if you would be amenable to being… on retainer? Is that the phrase that humans use? A readily-available consultant, I suppose.”

Nina’s fingers went tap-tap-tapping at her arm, and she considered that, biting her lip. “You can’t pay me in actual money.”

“No, our currency and yours have no standardized exchange rate,” Allura admitted. “However, I was under the impression that the Balmera crystals have been adequate payment so far?”

“They have been,” Nina said. “And being a consultant… I could do that. You’d need to give me a more reliable communication method than you already have, but I could make it work.”

Allura started to relax.

“But—”

Aaaaaaaand she was tense again.

“—I don’t think that’s going to cover all your needs,” Nina said. “Quite frankly, you’re right. You need a magical employee. Probably more than one. You’re a minuscule but powerful military working on an intergalactic field. So I’ll be your consultant, sure, but I think… I think you’d be better off with a different plan.”

Allura frowned. “I’m listening.”

“The Galaxy Garrison’s been in conversations with the government, mostly because Iverson’s pissed that no one told him about magic, and also that they told him to cover up Kerberos when it came back to bite everyone in the ass,” Nina said, turning to look out the window again. “Point is, there’s a lot of shit going down, but the majority of the power regarding feasible military operations in space is still concentrated in the Galaxy Garrison, especially in the US, and they’re finally getting a chance to work with magicals.”

“Okay…” Allura trailed off.

“Introduce yourself to the UN,” Nina said. “I mean, you don’t _have_ to, but my suggestion? Reveal aliens to our governments, and then request magicals through the Galaxy Garrison. They need the support and stability right now, something that they probably do deserve. Iverson will come down on your side; I’ve been _his_ consultant pretty often these last few months, so I know that much. You’ll get magical support, and if they send up a single active-duty Garrison member, since everyone you’ve got is either legally dead or MIA, then you’ll have more legitimacy with our governments, which will make the kids’ lives easier when they try to get home… and getting legal citizenship or whatever for Hanna. That’ll be a bitch even through the magical community, if you don’t have some connection.”

Allura stared. “You…”

“Yeah?” Nina said. “Listen, it’s just a sugges—”

“Walk me through it.”

“What?”

“Your governmental system. Walk me through it. I know bits and pieces, but not everything. I know what the United Nations is, and was hoping to implement a similar interplanetary cooperation system with the defeat of the Galra, but I don’t know enough details.” Allura swallowed. “I am not… opposed to your idea, but I don’t have enough information on your planet to make a final decision. So… walk me through it?”

Nina frowned, and then nodded sharply. “Right. Let’s get somewhere with a desk and chairs.”

o.o.o.o.o

“We should get an apartment or something.”

Keith sat up to stare down at Lance. “What.”

“Yes,” Allura mumbled, lifting her own head to frown at Lance. “I’m afraid I’m not quite seeing the reasoning.”

“Well, I mean, we can’t always treat the Castle as home base, right?” Lance asked. “Especially on Earth? I mean, we’ve done enough by now that we’ve earned some kind of leave to visit our families and stuff, right? Or when Allura has to start doing diplomacy stuff with Earth? Which is going to take a _long time_ , because bureaucracy is a bitch…”

“Can’t we just stay at my shack?” Keith complained. “Or your parent’s place?”

“I mean, we _could_ …” Lance said, frowning. “But like… your shack kind of sucks, and as much as I love my family, I’m going to want my own place eventually, right?”

“You have your own place on the Castle,” Allura said dubiously. “And I still don’t understand why all three of us would need to share a single apartment.”

“Hunk said he didn’t want to room with me again because I’m always bringing people home,” Lance said. “But I don’t want to live alone, you know?”

“Ugh,” Keith grunted, falling back onto the pillow. “Can we talk about it once there’s actually a need? We’re still fighting a war. I think we’ve got a few years at _least_ before we need to talk about retirement.”

“Not retirement!” Lance protested. “Just… someplace to call home base other than the Castle. Everything here feels so temporary, you know? Transient or whatever.”

 “If you really wish to share a room permanently, I don’t suppose it would be that strange for the two of you to move into my rooms,” Allura suggested.

“No, I need my own space,” Keith said immediately. “Sleepovers after threesomes are fine. Actually losing the opportunity of my own space? No. That much ‘home base’ philosophy I _do_ understand. I need to have a safe place to call mine. No sharing.”

“Yeah, we kind of need to keep our own rooms here,” Lance admitted. “But like… I don’t know, it just seems like a convenient set-up once we need a semi-permanent thing back home?”

“Lance, we’ve got _years_ before our bodies age enough to need breaks like that,” Keith mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“…years, he says,” Lance muttered, looking over at Allura. “You haven’t told them, have you?”

Allura buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

“Didn’t tell us _what?”_ Keith demanded, sitting up. “Allura, the fact that Lance is comment on the years we have left is really fucking worrying.”

“It’s not like that!” Allura said, lifting herself up off her pillow and meeting Keith’s eyes. “It’s not a bad thing, just… I should have mentioned it before, but I forgot, and by the time I remembered, it was late enough to be awkward, and I didn’t want to make a fuss.”

“She was hoping the lions would tell us,” Lance said.

“Tell us _what?”_

“…the connection to the Lions lengthens your lifespans,” Allura said quietly. “You will likely outlive the average human by… a very long time.”

Keith stared at her.

“… _what.”_

o.o.o.o.o

“So,” Marisol said, breathing out slowly. She was more or less alone in a room with Hanna, though she knew for a fact that most of the team was nearby enough to eavesdrop, just in case. “We should talk.”

“Um… about what?” Hanna asked.

“Well, I know you’ve already been told that you can’t stay on board the Castle, because it’s too dangerous,” Marisol said. “So the team has been trying to find somewhere for you to live.”

Hanna nodded.

“Right. So. Part of the reason I came here this week was to meet you, because my brother suggested that I be the one to take you in,” Marisol said, trying to choose her words carefully. “To adopt you, really. I’m… well, I’m not sure if I’m ready to be a mother. This is the kind of decision that takes a lot of time for most people. But I’ve had a few days to think it over, and if you think you’re okay with the idea, then I’d like to go through with it.”

Hanna stared at her, looking a wee bit confused. “You mean… you want to be my new mom?”

“Well,” Marisol said. “I can’t replace your parents. I’d say that would be kind of rude to your memory of them, wouldn’t it? But… yes, essentially.”

Tiny legs pulled up onto the adult-sized chair, and tiny arms wrapped around tiny knees. Hanna ducked her head down behind her legs and peeked at Marisol over them. “I… I don’t want to leave the Castle.”

“I know,” Marisol said. “But it’s very dangerous here, and you can visit and call when you need to. It’s not forever.”

Hanna kept staring. “I would live with you?”

“Well, yes. I’m still living with my family, but I’ve got a large enough budget that finding a two-room apartment shouldn’t take too long,” Marisol said. She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to frame the rest. “Lance and I have little siblings, and they’re only a little older than you, so you’d have someone to play with, and teach you how to pretend to be human. Granted, they’re little troublemakers, but you seem to have enough common sense not to get suckered into their shenanigans.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily be around all the time,” Marisol warned. “I have two jobs, so you’d end up spending some nights with my family or a babysitter. I’ve helped with my siblings, but I’ve never had a child of my own before. I don’t have a partner to share parenting duties with. I can promise that I’ll try my best, but there’s some ways in which I can’t really provide the whole… nuclear family ideal that a lot of people like to press onto us.”

“But… you want me to live with you.”

“If you’re okay with it, then yeah. I’d be glad to be your new mom.” And it was the truth. She’d had four days to think it over (pushing to the edge of her healthy pause between meals, granted, even if the last one had been more magically powerful than usual), and she’d decided that yes. She wanted to do this. “So… you wanna do this?”

“Um…” Hanna’s gaze dropped towards the ground.

“I understand if you don’t like the idea,” Marisol said. “It’s… not a fun situation. Someone trying to adopt you less than a week after you found your parents are dead sucks, _and_ I just told you that I can’t necessarily be a normal mom, either, and I’m not even sure if you like me, and—”

“I do.”

“What?”

Hanna looked up at her again. “I do like you. You’re nice, and you explain things when I ask about them, and when I told you there were too many people and that the noise was too much, you took me outside like Coran does.”

“Oh. Um. You’re welcome?”

Hanna tilted her head. “I don’t think I’d care much if you were normal. Or not.”

Marisol waited.

“Okay,” Hanna said, letting her feet slide off the chair. “I’ll go with you.”

A bright grin broke across Marisol’s face, answered by a shyer one on Hanna’s. “Great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! And we've reached the end of one journey. I wrote a 200k+ incubus AU with precisely zero smut, and in less than three months! I slipped by a few hours a few times, but I stuck to my "every other day" schedule for the most part, which is... really impressive, IMO. Also hit 999 kudos a few hours before posting this epilogue. Be proud of me?
> 
> (I know there wasn't enough Hunk in this chapter. Sorry. I couldn't figure out where to take the scene.)
> 
> The original organization for this arc, by the way, which ended up getting a little fiddling. Not everything in the plans ended up actually happening:  
> \- Planet Fae  
> \-- Lance gains the Queens’ favors by sleeping with them  
> \- Keith’s Heat  
> \- Matt + rebellion (36-37)  
> \-- Nyma?  
> \-- [redacted] start  
> \-- Galra Catnip  
> \- Marisol gets captured (38)  
> \-- “Sometimes you just have to fuck your way out of a bad situation.”  
> \-- “That doesn’t explain all the fire.”  
> \- Lotor-napping = Success! (39)  
> \-- Sent to jail in Marmora-land  
> \- Haggar tries to manipulate the Fae(40)  
> \-- Fucks up so hard  
> \-- So hard, guys  
> \-- You don’t even know  
> \-- Years stolen and placed in a crystal as a trophy  
> \-- Child Haggar left with Voltron (41)  
> \--- Mommy!Marisol
> 
> I do have a few potential sequels planned out. The most interesting one would be about Marisol raising Hanna, but other than that, here's the idea list. (All crossovers are basically just 'a wormhole fucked up and we're trapped in another universe. Help.)
> 
> • Firefly one-shot  
> • MCU one-shot  
> • Disney's Descendants one-shot  
> • Marisol raising bby!Haggar  
> • Kallurance “Fuck it, let’s get married”  
> • Emiko, bby!Haggar, Teo, Diana adventures  
> • Adventures of Lucyfer
> 
> And now that I'm done with this... well, feel free to check out my other projects? I think I'll be focusing on **Turn Back the Clock** for the most part (a serious fic), but "Ninjas and Aliens" (a comedy fic) and a number of my non-Voltron projects are probably crying for attention after the long hiatus that was caused by me getting so sucked into JaLD.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr under the same username as here: phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com  
> If you have questions, want to tag me in something, or just want to see me complain around the writing process, feel free to follow me.
> 
> Huge thanks to firebirdeternal, my beta.
> 
> If y'all feel like doing fanart... go right ahead! Just tag me on tumblr or link me in a comment here so I can share it!  
> (And feel free to rec the fic; I know the tropes, core concept, and title probably make a lot of people skip over it, even if they'd probably enjoy it otherwise.)
> 
> I don't get art very often, but when I do, I want to urge everyone to share it, so go reblog these if you have a tumblr!  
> Art that @cloudybahi did for Chapter 37: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/163464658835  
> Art that @kurumu did for the fic in general: http://phoenixyfriend.tumblr.com/post/166060209455/


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